Driftwood
by anemotionallyconstipatedauthor
Summary: Nora struggles to cope with the changes in her life. As she navigates her way through grief, moving to America and attending a new school, she attracts the attention of Edward Cullen.
1. Chapter 1

**OK** **, my Creative Writing professor suggested writing this to get used to the concept of feedback and criticism, so here it is.**

 **I'm not a fan of Twilight. I don't like the views it promotes or the obvious gender stereotyping, and I can say with utter certainty that Isabella 'Co-Dependent' Swan is the least likeable heroine to ever be created in the literary world. That said, I want to alter it and twist it all around into something new that, hopefully, someone out there will enjoy. Also, sorry for any out of place timelines or references - like I said, I know the stories of the Saga but not religiously so there's bound to be an error in there somewhere.**

 **Thank you for any favourites, follows, reviews, or whatever you fancy throwing my way in response to this. I have no idea if people will like it.**

 **(Every chapter will have a song I listened to while creating it scribbled at the top.)**

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 **1**

 **Gimme Shelter,** ** _The Rolling Stones_**

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American schools were somehow both identical and completely different to British ones. Sure, they had that God awful cat poster tacked to the wall - whoever created and distributed that monstrosity needed to be shot - and there was the obvious mould on the ceiling, the broken radiator that blasted heat twenty four-seven rather than just occasionally in winter, and the iconic, blinking fluorescent yellow light sputtering above her, which always made her feel paranoid over possibly becoming epileptic. All of these things, flaws though they were, felt familiar. She could be attending any high school in the world with those details.

But, this school was also alien to her. For one thing, the small town of Forks wasn't quite up to date with modern technology and so, suffered through the unbearably slow, cube shaped computers that felt like they belonged in museums. If there was one thing she would miss Littleton's Comprehensive School for, it would be the power of Google and all its wonder.

Of course, she wasn't going back there ever again. It wasn't one of those 'problem child' situations - she hadn't killed someone or knocked out some Mean Girls' wannabe with one of the frying pans from Cookery class. Nope, instead, it was her worst nightmare.

Her dad died. He had a heart attack, plain and simple. Except it wasn't.

Because she wasn't particularly sure of how to navigate her life without him _in_ it.

Just thinking about him made her feel that unrelenting, sharp ache in her chest. People didn't lie when they said you always remember the little things. Her father was longing memories of bright orange hair identical to her own, an awful singing voice that wailed to _Led Zeppelin_ or _The Moody Blues,_ brilliant omelettes or awful tea which was always too milky. He was what she took for granted, the things she thought were part of the scenery until they were ripped away from her.

It felt like a phantom stabbing. Everyone always thought of tears or absolute silence or zombification when it came to grief - but she hadn't reacted that way. She'd cried at the funeral, bawled into her brother's shoulder like a newborn baby, and then, in some mutually silent agreement, she and her sibling had tried to toughen up and continue living because they both knew it was what he would've wanted.

That didn't mean she wanted to talk about it to a stranger, however.

"How're you feeling?"

Her eye twitched. She couldn't stop it if she'd tried. Really? How are you feeling? She was feeling pretty damn bad and wished she was addicted to something, like cigarettes or cocaine or _Gossip Girl_ , to take her focus away from her own head. It was a jumbled mess in her skull as it was, never mind this guy's attempt to poke around in it - a man who seemed to be attempting the role of Freud and Jerry Springer's love child. The guidance counsellor opposite her was portly, red faced and balding; not the inspirational, motivational, aspirational (anything, really, with 'ational' attached) person he thought he was.

"I'm feeling like chips," she replied, nonchalantly, shrugging. "Oh you call them 'fries' right?" She asked seriously. "You should know, those thin sticks you consider fries are not nearly, not on this Earth, as good as the stuff back home. Man, I really miss chips."

"Miss Brennan."

She blinked widely and innocently up at him, "Yes, Mr," she looked pointedly and rather sardonically at the in-your-face, proudly placed, _Mr R. Davies_ name holder plastered boldly in front of her, on top of the oak desk, "oh, Davies, was it? _Mr Davies_. Does the R stand for Roger by any chance? I'm a huge fan of JK."

Said man's eyes practically begged to be rolled, but he clearly restrained himself if the vein pulsing on his forehead was any suggestion. She wasn't trying to actively give her counsellor an aneurism – she just really didn't want to do this. Guidance counselling was not her thing. If Jon didn't have to go, and her elder brother was most definitely less sane than she was, which was saying something, then she didn't think she should be confined to the stiflingly hot, incredibly awkward atmosphere, reminiscent of the nine circles of Hell, either. Instead, she was forced to deflect and joke her arse off until he freed her.

"Miss Brennan, you have attended two of these sessions so far, with little success. I realise moving to a new school, and a new country, is stressful given your… _situation_ , but do you feel like you can take this session seriously?"

She thought about it. She really, really did.

"No. I doubt it," she said honestly, her voice monotonous. "It's not you, it's me. I'm just not that into you. Picture every clichéd breakup movie speech and apply it to me, you and our unfortunate situation." She leaned forward, trying to sound earnest for once rather than sarcastic, "I know I need to go through the stages of grief, hold hands with hippies, stare moodily at a lake and all that fun stuff, but honestly? I just want to attempt American high school. It's my first day. Last week, I didn't say anything because I hadn't officially begun; but now? Can I _please_ be excused before I'm late for my first lesson?"

He sighed, rubbing his watery blue eyes wearily. "You may leave, Miss Brennan," he said, defeated.

"Thank you."

With a small, triumphant, empty smile, Nora quickly hopped out of her seat, grabbed her satchel from the floor, and headed out of the classroom, breathing in a gulp of fresh… hallway air. Hm, maybe she'd wait to do the dramatic exit when she actually _left_ the building.

Which wouldn't be until the gruelling day of torture, in the form of high school education, had ended. Joy.

She glanced down at her handy dandy school map, as well as the timetable, and attempted to guide herself, emulating Columbus, to her English class. Luckily, after a briefly awkward nod and handing over of the sacred 'new-girl-in-school' note to the teacher, she was told to snag the remaining seat near the back and practically slammed her forehead on the desk in an effort to escape the curious glances boring, unrelentingly, into her face. Ah well, at least the desk was cool and she wouldn't resemble a tomato when she was forced upright.

Eventually, the teacher - dismissing the need to introduce the new girl, and God did she thank him for it, the _saint_ \- explained that the lesson would simply be individual study, analysing certain chapters of the book, and left them to do their thing.

She would start reading and highlighting like a maniac, and forget about the horrific counselling session and all the memories she had forcibly tucked away to remember after school, in private.

Simple enough.

Of course, that peace was soon ruined in the form of her hastily thrown, _open_ bag.

"Bloody hell," she cursed, grabbing her sprawled textbooks and pens from the desk and throwing them haphazardly into her satchel. So much for neatness and organisation.

Pfft. As if she were neat or organised or able to function normally. Oh, pipe dreams.

Embarrassed, Nora tucked a thick strand of hair behind her ear and offered her partner - who she'd barely noticed up to that point - a sheepish grin. The ridiculously handsome boy beside her offered a small, polite if a bit distant smile in response.

Alrighty then. Not wanting to dwell on her own thoughts longer than she had to, she introduced herself, "I'm Nora." She offered an awkward wave, "and I'm not usually this clumsy. Sorry about," she gestured to where she'd knocked his pristine notebook and copy of the novel sideways in her rush, "that."

And honestly, she wasn't. She figured it was a mix of first day in a new school jitters _and_ Jesus-Christ-I'm-living-in-a-new-country nerves.

"It's quite alright," he replied, quietly, and again, politely. "My name is Edward Cullen."

Edward, huh. She tried to remember if she'd ever met an Edward before and came up blank. She smiled, "You're the first Edward I've ever met. Not that that's impressive, really," she mused, "you can't exactly be impressive for something you didn't choose yourself. But I like meeting people with new names. It would get a bit boring if I just had a harem of Edward's," she muttered to herself.

Hm, that was probably a weird thing to say. Going by his slightly raised eyebrows, anyway.

She shrugged, "I tend to speak my thoughts aloud."

His lips twitched and she counted it as a win. "I noticed."

Her eyes narrowed, examining his absurdly flawless face. She wondered how much time it took him to perfect his bronze hair and compared it to those creepy Ken doll-styled boy bands that were becoming increasingly popular and increasingly self-entitled.

She despised perfectionism. She was too damn lazy for it. She supposed he did look good…

Oh, who was she kidding? His face irritated her. It was all pale skin, sharp cheekbones and a straight nose. Part of her wanted to punch him just so his nose would resemble a human being's rather than the cast of _90210_. God forbid anyone remind her of that devil's spawn of a programme.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" She said, tapping her pen absently against the counter and reading over today's chapter.

He looked affronted, for no reason whatsoever, and a little amused. In fact, his stare made her feel like one of those seals clapping for an audience at SeaWorld.

She was not a seal. Her glare hopefully clarified that.

On that note, she turned back to her novel for the second time, hopefully taking in what she was reading this time rather than staring at the words, dazed and blank like a Stepford wife.

All of the American education system confused her. Apparently she was a junior in 11th grade because she was still seventeen and, although she'd considered going in as a senior, she didn't want to ruin her chances of a good education; after all, if she didn't understand it now, why dive in the deep end and get eaten brutally by sharks?

That analogy got away from her a bit…

But, she was coping. Trudging through it like it was all an extended episode of _Glee_ and she'd lost the remote. And boy, were these people chipper enough to get away with the comparison. She'd already been molested by some blonde kid named Mike who reminded her of a spaniel on ecstasy; he had attempted to suavely guide her to the counsellor's office until her deadpan stare eventually made him back the hell off.

She was slightly upset that she no longer had the same lessons as back in England, either. Over there, one mathematics class was enough but here it was all Calculus, Trigonometry, yadda yadda. It was making her reconsider her plan to puppy-dog-eye Jon into swindling her away and becoming a feral child. The forest _was_ plentiful; they might not find her.

But now she needed to focus.

English Lit was probably going to end up being her favourite lesson. She loved reading almost as much as she loved listening to music. Rather than sitting stiffly on her seat, she relaxed, imagining she was no longer in the classroom but sitting curled up in a blanket on the beach outside of her old house, back home. Waves crashing, gulls crying, and the strong scent of sea salt assaulting her nose.

The novel they were currently studying was _The Road_ , which she admittedly adored. Perhaps she was a closet masochist.

Idly analysing her chosen quote, highlighter stuck between her teeth, Nora thought over McCarthy's words. Religion was a tricky topic for her; she didn't believe in God, in the sense of the benevolent, omniscient presence, and _The Road_ 's interpretation was something she could agree with. God or no God, there will always be suffering.

"Interesting analysis," her partner commented. She peered over at him, meeting his golden eyes. _Golden_ eyes. Like honey. Odd.

But, focused on his face once again, she was reminded that there was not a _single_ blemish, scar or stray hair in sight. It was more reminiscent of a porcelain doll than a human being.

 _Unnatural_ , her mind offered. And the word fit. His looks, perfect as they were, screamed of something abnormal; he looked _polished_.

But rather than dwell on her discomfort of it, she focused on his question.

"You don't think that the man relies on God as a reason to continue? That he purely exists to continue a biblical mission, guiding his son?"

"You disagree with me," she realised, looking at him.

He narrowed his eyes. "Not necessarily; I simply believe the man has realised that he's there to fulfil the role that God's given him. He states, clearly, that the child is 'the word of God', and therefore, following him is following God, Himself."

Nora thought about it; Edward was clearly humouring her and probably had more than one black and white approach to the text but she liked debating critical analysis, regardless. She desperately needed to let off some pent up steam, so perhaps ranting a little angrily at her pretty-boy-partner was the cure.

Indulging him, she replied, "I don't think that it's God that the man is talking to or that his role as the child's guide sustains him. I think his relationship and _love_ for the child does. McCarthy seems to suggest that while God may or may not be present, He is undoubtedly indifferent to their suffering and thus, becomes non-existent as a result. I think the point of the novel is to show morality in a godless world. Morality, here, is achieved because of love, not religion – the man teaches the boy and himself to be the 'good guys' not for the sake of a Godlike being, but for the sake of the child. Every time he does something 'bad', the child distances himself, and in that way the child is the moral compass, not God. When the Man states that, 'If he is not the _word of God God_ never spoke,' as you said, I don't think he's suggesting the option of godlessness is impossible. I think McCarthy is transforming the boy into the role God _should_ fulfil but fails to."

She looked up and noticed Edward staring at her, thoughtfully. She would even go as far as to say there was a spark of surprise in his eyes.

"Are you an atheist?" He asked bluntly.

"Does it matter either way?"

"Yes," he stated, leaning forward. "A believer in God wouldn't imply that the world is godless."

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that morality entwined with religion becomes self-interested."

He tilted his head. "Why do you think that?"

Nora huffed, threading her fingers together and turning to face him properly. "Because if religion becomes the compass of morality, then moral people are selfish – they're only being good because they have to be in order to reach their afterlife in heaven or whatever it is they believe in. Here, in this novel, the man encourages morality and being the 'good guy' for the sake of his son, and his love for the child. Not for God."

"That would suggest that the man in the novel is equally as selfish as religious believers, though," he pointed out.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'd say he's less so than most people. And I'd argue that the _point_ is that the _child_ is the selfless character. He's being good solely because he wants to be – he guides the man to be good because it's what right. Good has no purpose in a godless universe and yet, there they are," she gestured to her open text, "striving to be the 'good guys'."

They both paused and Nora could feel his stare on her face. His eyes were intense, blazing with something indefinable, as if Nora had touched upon something raw. She didn't mean to offend him but she always thought telling the truth of your opinion was more important than hurt feelings. Besides, her interpretation was just that - one interpretation of many. None were right or wrong, it was part of the reason she loved this subject so much.

"You're very... different, compared to other teens here."

She snorted, looking up with a bemused smirk. "Not particularly. I'm your stereotypical teen; I love coffee, Netflix and sarcasm. Perfectly normal," she glanced at him, slightly suspicious of... _something_. Something that was glaringly obvious. Something that - throughout their absolutely ordinary discussion, arguably since she'd first noticed how flawless he was, as if his skin were marble rather than malleable flesh - remained unknown. She didn't know why, but Edward Cullen seemed wrong, somehow, and that made her wary. But she pushed those thoughts aside for later dissection, instead quipping with an undertone of honesty, "Besides, you're one to talk about being different, Mr Photoshop."

Edward let out a laugh that seemed to surprise him, but still managed to frown at the same time. He looked troubled. "Touché."

She considered questioning him. Just turning around and asking him to explain to her why she felt on edge. She had an inkling that if she did, he would lie.

Suddenly, the bell rang loudly, dismissing the class. Chairs scraped back and the sound of chattering erupted as if it had only been paused.

And with the noise, came her acceptance of this enigma beside her. She had enough on her plate to deal with, without having to barge herself into someone else's secrets; that wasn't exactly tasteful. So, collecting her things, Nora breathed out a smile.

She enjoyed debating, had yearned for an intellectual partner to do so with. She felt that familiar adrenaline pumping through her veins, as if she'd stretched a muscle at long last; chiding her with just how much she'd missed it.

She turned to Edward once she'd packed up, noting that he'd already done so and was beginning to stand as well.

"It was," she pursed her lips, " _refreshing_ to have a debate with someone who actually read the novel. So, I guess it was nice to meet you, Edward. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go act like a proper teenager and brood my way through lunch with music playing ridiculously loudly out of my headphones."

Edward smirked like the douchebag she knew he secretly was. "You realise this was only the first class. Lunch isn't for another three hours."

She rolled her eyes. Amateurs. "This is why they invented pop tarts," she replied, snagging the delicious treats from her bag, "to scoff between classes. Want one?"

"No, thank you," he replied, quickly.

"Calm down," she chuckled at his sudden response. "No need to panic and almost ruin a strand of that perfectly coiffed hair of yours," she smirked, eyes taking in his reaction to her words: he looked distinctly uncomfortable. "See you in class, Eddie."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews - I was surprised that people didn't bite my head off for changing this story or my opinion on Bella. Yes, she will appear as the chapters continue - patience! I'm sorry if people dislike my OC or my approach to her and Edward, but I want to take it slow and steady. Like a turtle.**

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 **2**

 **You're a Germ,** _ **Wolf Alice**_

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The day continued monotonously, each set of eyes perky and well-intending but somehow more grating than the sound of nails on a blackboard, and she uneasily attempted to ignore the sadness settled upon her form.

All day it was as if she were in a bubble; even with the overabundance of eager well-wishers and embittered teachers, Nora still felt like she was wading through water, that horrible muted sensation when you're too deep in thought to focus, as she dwelled on everything and nothing at all. She dwelled on her father's death and the subsequent move, her hatred of her counselling sessions and her newfound love of headphones.

She despised her Algebra class, persevered through US History while internally disliking the lack of _any other_ country's events, and finally, enjoyed the relishing fervour of the Creative Writing class she'd decided upon as an elective.

Nora wasn't exactly ambitious in the sense of having a life orientated around what she wanted to do as a career, but that didn't mean she hadn't planned or thought about it.

She wanted to write. Despite her brother's subtle attempts to dissuade her after his own self-loathing over a 'pointless' degree in Music, Nora wanted to study English in a good university and then travel write. It was her aim.

That, and a few other things, but for now, focusing on her academics seemed like a good way to avoid dwelling on everything else.

So, her Creative Writing class had been exactly what she needed before lunchtime.

And then, the dreaded event was upon her.

On one hand, food. Food was the love of her life, in all shapes and forms, healthy to non-healthy, Chinese style beef to vegan smoothies. Whatever, as long as she could scoff it.

On the other hand, more food equalled more people, more people equalled more staring and or attempting to converse, and that all equalled a pretty crappy hour of her time.

The loud, angry stomach growl was the deciding vote, and, glaring at her backstabbing belly all the way, she manoeuvred through the corridors, following the flow of people, like herded cattle, to the cafeteria.

"Hey, you're the new girl!"

The enthusiastic voice sparked up from behind her as she loaded an apple, a sufficient amount of chips, and a chocolate cupcake onto her tray, heading towards the general location of the till. Without turning, she idly wondered what her response was supposed to be. Yes, I am! Yay for me! Or even, No, I've been a student here for three years you oblivious tart!

Instead, she settled on squinted eyes and an unimpressed frown, staring down the short, curly haired girl who seemed to both love and hate the attention being put upon her person.

She looked like your average ladder-climber; the secretly academic, too-cheerful, stab you in the back if it'll make me valedictorian kind of girl.

Nora's frown transformed into a shark grin. "I'm the new girl," she confirmed before waltzing away to pay for her food.

"So is your accent, like, British?"

Ah, she was being stalked now. Wonderful. She hated being, well, talked to; especially when she was hungry and all she wanted was food. She bet the cupcake was dry, too.

"Nope," she responded idly, searching her jeans for spare cash and coming up short. Was it in her bag?

"B-but I thought you moved here from Britain, or something."

The girl looked like a jumble of nervous, excited and uncaring, and while it had been fun to mess with her over semantics, she decided to throw her a bone.

Nora sighed, "My accent is prevalently an English one. It's a different thing."

"Oh," said whatshername, sounding disappointed. She soon perked up again though, "Wanna come sit with me and my friends?"

No. No she didn't. She wanted to sulk in the corner, put on dramatic eye makeup and read Tolstoy moodily.

"Sure," she settled on, because Jon wanted her to befriend people, not backhand them out of her way.

"I'm Jessica, by the way," the curly haired girl continued, skipping along to her designated table. Nora had noticed that the school was rather obviously filled with cliques and felt a pang of wistfulness at the thought of her previous school and its relaxed common rooms where everyone mixed together. "And you're Laura Brennan right?"

"Nora," she corrected.

They soon sat and were bombarded by curious onlookers. Jessica preened under the attention and Nora stuffed her mouth with the – yep, it was dry – cupcake to avoid any questions.

She nodded at the enthusiastic blonde boy – Mike – she'd seen before, steered clear of the greasy haired Asian boy who seemed to enjoy staring at her, ignored the bottle blonde girl's glare, and attempted to grin with her mouth full at the black haired, shy girl who sent her a kind, but timid smile.

"So," started Jessica, picking at her nails, "why did you move here?"

It was a fair enough question. This was a small town, and Nora expected that they hardly ever had new people arriving - let alone one who'd almost completed high school. But revealing her dad's death wasn't something she fancied doing to these people. She didn't know them, she barely liked them, and she'd already been coerced into spilling her guts to the school counsellor and the teachers probably knew, so what was the point in telling them something they'd hear through the grapevine eventually anyway?

So, she did what she always did. Deflected with deadpan sarcasm.

"I'm on the run," she replied seriously, keeping her face blank.

The response was amusing, but only to her. There was a moment of awkward, uncomfortable laughter - mostly from Mike - before they all noticed her blank face and stared at her in shock, disbelief and a little bit of fear. The Asian boy cleared his throat, Adam's apple bobbing nervously, and asked in a high pitched voice, "Uh - what did you - I mean - "

She pursed her lips. "Drug smuggling," she said.

No one could think up an adequate response immediately and so, they all seemed to settle into an uncomfortable lunch of Nora eating casually and the rest trying to steer clear of her.

Until, the black haired girl ruined it all by laughing slightly. "She's joking you guys," she said, amused.

Nora rolled her eyes but didn't deny it, unfortunately.

Suddenly, the cafeteria seemed to hush slightly, as if the Pope had just walked in. She turned, hoping to see what the phenomenon was, and immediately deflated. It seemed that the parade of beautiful people - who honestly looked like teachers rather than students - was a good enough reason for the reverent silence.

There was Edward from English Lit, along with four other stunningly beautiful, equally knackered looking people.

And, oh-what-a-coincidence, it was the same beauty that her instincts thought abnormal. Inhuman.

One looked like a bodybuilder, with funny dimples and a grin plastered on his face, his bulky arm wrapped around a blonde girl with an unconscious sneer, who again, seemed ridiculously pretty, as if she'd been airbrushed. Behind them was a constipated fellow with nice wavy blonde hair, staring at the reincarnation of Tinkerbelle who skipped along beside him, almost dancing, dark hair sticking up every which way; a clear indication of a previous snog fest with her boyfriend. That right there, was sex hair. Edward, looking amused by something, glided behind them, and when his eyes strayed to meet hers, she offered raised eyebrows and a small wave, to which he gave a small nod.

Abnormal beauty or not, he was still the only decent conversation she'd had in this place so far.

When she turned back, everyone was gaping at her as if she were the Second Coming of Christ.

Which, last time she checked, she was not.

"What?" She demanded, biting into her food. "Quit staring, it's creepy."

Mouth open. Mouth close. Mouth open. Mouth close. And then, Jessica managed to communicate in a hushed whisper, "How do you know Edward Cullen?"

If it weren't for the obvious jealousy in her tone, Nora might've been offended. Instead, she responded in a snarky whisper, "We're secret lovers."

A booming laugh emanated from across the cafeteria, and Nora actually thought the windows might be shaking. Mike choked on his sandwich and Jessica paled but leaned in, eagerly. "Wait, _what_? You and... _him_?"

Again, should she be offended? She decided not to be.

"Yeah," she replied instead, nodding along quickly, "did you know he has a birthmark shaped like a teddy bear on his arse? It's why he's called Edward. Teddy for short."

Another ridiculously loud guffaw sounded, this one louder than the other. Jessica looked like she was about to keel over from shock, and the blonde girl - she wanted to say her name was Lauren - looked disgusted.

"I'm kidding," Nora chuckled after a minute of astoundment. "I met him in English today - he's my partner. I'm guessing those supermodels he walked in with are his family?"

She said this not because of their equal beauty - after all, she was sure Edward wasn't related to James Dean - but because of, from what she could make out, their matching golden eyes. It had to be a genetic thing because she'd yet to meet anyone with those coloured eyes.

Jessica nodded, blurting out quickly, "Yeah - they're a foster family, adopted by Dr Cullen and his wife. They moved here from Alaska like, two years ago." She pointed, not exactly inconspicuously at the Cullen's table which seemed to be set apart from the rest of the school by quite a margin. "The blonde girl's Rosalie and she's dating the big guy, Emmett. The other two are Jasper and Alice. They're all _really_ weird and like, _together_. It's gross."

Wait. That made little sense. They weren't actually related yet had the same, unique eye colour? That didn't add up.

The second detail of the day: inhumanly beautiful, similar features despite claims that they're unrelated. Nora put it to the back of her mind for further examination when she was bored.

Instead, she asked another question, "Do they all have herpes or something? Why do they sit so far away from everyone?"

The black haired girl answered, uncomfortably, "They like to, um, to keep to themselves. I'm Angela, by the way," she added.

Jessica interrupted Angela, "Plus, they think they're better than everyone else. I heard Mrs Cullen can't have kids, anyway."

She said this derisively and uncaring, as if the elusive mother was lessened in her eyes. Nora felt a rush of hot anger; she could relate to their lack of parents, and her own mother had died before she was old enough to speak properly, so she felt more emotional about the subject than she usually would.

"So?" She demanded, eyebrow arched. But a voice that sounded suspiciously like Jon's told her to calm down; she was new here and it wasn't really any of her business if a school girl was too shallow minded for her tastes. Nora closed her eyes, breathed out and plastered on a fake smile as she stood up. "You know what? As fun and Brady Bunch themed as this lunch has been, I think I'm gonna go get some fresh air. Need that air… to breathe. Breathing's healthy."

And with that garbled excuse, she quickly headed for the door. It wasn't raining so she just sat on one of the empty benches and stared at the bordering trees; that was one thing she was glad of. The crappy weather reminded her of home, and the trees reminded her of summer days spent dozing in the park.

She needed to call Jon, she decided, quickly taking her phone out and clicking on her brother's name. She needed familiarity in this alien school, needed someone to anchor her here so she didn't drift away into her own thoughts like she had on the plane ride over.

Of course, it went straight to voicemail. She smacked herself in the forehead with her phone. Because of their sudden lack of income, Jon had had to forgo a job he might've actually wanted and gone for a highly paid bartending one in some restaurant in Port Angeles, the neighbouring town. He worked long, hard shifts, but he said he wouldn't mind because his boss was going to let him perform his own music every other Friday. His degree in Music may not have given him an obvious career, but Nora's brother was undoubtedly, a passionate musician. He loved his guitar and he loved songwriting.

She decided then and there that she'd get herself a part time job as soon as possible, to help unburden him a little.

Uncaring of any eavesdroppers, she redialled and waited for the voicemail beep again. Even if he didn't answer, she could pretend that he was there, helping her to get through the day like he always did.

"Hey Jon," she drawled, wearily, "Hope things are going okay. I'm still not backing down about seeing you perform there. How about this Friday? Keeps me out the house and I'll pretend to be a groupie or something, big you up to your boss. Anyway, I've only made it as far as lunch before I started to assert myself into the loner stereotype. You know, the girl with quick wit and an unhealthy association with Jack Daniels who broods in the corner? That's the new me. I went all 'Elvis has left the building' and uh, left the cafeteria building. _Me_ being antisocial. Go figure." She chewed on the inside of her cheek, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to push the feeling bubbling inside of her away. She sighed and scratched her neck, "I missed just hanging out and pretending we're in a power cut like we did yesterday. Especially when you pretended to be Scottish to our neighbour; it sounded like a constipated Sean Connery. That was fun. And we really need to sort out the power box thingy – the house is bloody freezing. So, yeah. I'm gonna head back inside now. See you soon... Bye."

Great, she thought grimly, she sounded like a clingy lunatic.

The bell rung shrilly, ending lunch, and with a heavy sigh, Nora headed to her final classes.

On her way, she noticed a small, bright red poster on a noticeboard. In big, block capitals, it read, "LEARN MANDARIN AS A SECOND LANGUAGE." Beneath it was a little passage explaining where to go to sign up, and to ask for a 'Mr Miller'.

She looked at it as a piece of gold in amongst a crap tonne of coal. Nora was eager to busy herself with anything and everything right now, and besides that, if she wanted to travel and write for a living, learning a language other than French or Spanish sounded like a good idea.

As soon as she'd snored her way through to the end of the day, Nora headed to the correct room and knocked out the Imperial Death March.

"Oh for - come in, for Christ's sake!" Said a muffled, gruff voice.

Opening the door revealed a tall, forty-something year old man, with stubble, brown hair and an annoyed grimace. "What?" He demanded.

"Uh," she responded cleverly, "I'm here to sign up for Mandarin lessons."

"Why?"

Nora frowned, "Because it's a charming language?"

The man she assumed was Mr Miller coughed out a laugh. Everything about him screamed rough and tough, as if he bathed in whiskey and the blood of deer he'd shot. He was handsome, she supposed, but that was overlooked in favour of the fact that his gruff manner reminded her, uncannily, of her father.

"A charming language, huh?"

"Yep," she chirped, eager to ignore her revelation, "plus, you know, CVs love that stuff and if I ever need to move country to avoid the police, I can put China on the list of possible locations."

He frowned at her and suddenly, smirked. "Fair enough. What's your name?"

"I'm Nora Brennan, I'm new, and I'm an alcoholic," she replied.

"That makes two of us," he muttered cheerily.

Screw first impressions - she loved this guy. Anyone that could hold their own in her overuse of sarcasm was golden.

He shuffled through the mess of papers on his desk - he taught Geography, she noticed - and handed over the form to sign. On it were two scrawled signatures already; she added her own to the bottom.

"So, how come you know Mandarin?" She asked as she signed.

He huffed, looking extremely tired of talking to her. She didn't exactly blame him - end of the school day and some snarky student won't leave him alone.

"It's my wife's mother tongue," he responded, reluctantly.

"No shit! Cool for your wife," she smiled, ignoring his pointed glare at her curse, "here ya go."

"Thank you," he said with no little bit of sarcasm. "Lessons start after school this Wednesday, in this classroom. Now get the hell out so I can leave."

"You got it."

She headed out towards the bike shed, happier than she'd been all day. For a first day at a new school, she supposed it hadn't been too bad; no one had attempted to stab her or spit on her, and she'd even made progress in her own ability to learn via these new after school sessions. Maybe she'd survive here.

Her bike, a shiny light blue one with the cute basket on the front and everything, was sat on its lonesome. She hopped on after unlocking it, stowed her bag in the basket, and got the hell out of there, swerving to avoid someone's car.

Cycling was... freeing. There was no other way to describe it. The wind whipped through her hair and bit at her face, her hands melded, chilled, to the bars, and everything distorted into a blur of green and brown. It was a release; she could pump her calf muscles to the limit, get rid of her anger and misery, as well as feel the first peaceful moment of the day. Just her, cycling on her own - no Photoshopped boys, dead dads or mean overachievers.

Just her, trying to anchor herself to the present.


	3. Chapter 3

**So… there are going to be other OC's. For starters, Jon who I'm introducing in this chapter face-to-face, then Mr Miller and there will be another, later on. I just think that Nora needs friends outside of the Cullen's – I didn't like how Bella was exclusively nice and friendly to them and made barely any effort with anyone else. Then, after looking through them, I found that none of the people Bella befriended were very full characters – Angela was nice but seemed boring in the books, and Jessica was too shallow. Hence, my own OCs. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Also I am a firm reference user. My character isn't someone who just sits and does nothing – she likes reading and watching TV and listening to music – all the teenager stuff. As such, I'm sorry but I'm gonna have to use references post-Twilight because that's the stuff I know. Some stuff, mainly music, will be older and therefore fine but TV wise it might not make sense for a supposedly 2005 setting. Just a heads up – sorry if you hate it!**

* * *

 **3**

 **You There,** ** _Aquilo_**

* * *

The sky was blindingly white, somehow brighter in cloudiness than it could ever have been in sunshine, and the light filtered in, penetrating painfully against her sleep-deprived eyes. Grumbling none too quietly, Nora attempted to shut her sea-blue curtains with one hand, before remembering… she hadn't put them up yet. That was probably why the light was attempting to blind her. So, instead of closing the non-existent curtains, remembering she was in her _new_ bedroom, she ended up misbalancing and falling with a loud thud onto the cold bare floorboards.

"Ow," she groaned, threading her hand through a shocking wave of orange hair.

She was interrupted by an impatient knocking and absently, she stared at the framed photograph that had fallen with her onto the floor, from the bedside table.

It showed her mother and father dancing at their wedding. They didn't stare into each other's eyes in a love sick way but their happiness was palpable. Her mother, a short brunette with excited, lively blue eyes, and her father, an amused, ginger haired man with a constant grin. Somehow, together, they made sense.

She placed it quietly back in position, her thumb rubbing against it. For a moment, she let herself imagine that she would walk downstairs and they'd be there, groaning, drinking coffee and grumbling about early starts.

Instead, Jon called again.

"You alright in there, Nor?"

She closed her eyes. "I'm okay," she said to herself.

Without getting up, her eyes trailed her cluttered room, scattered with unopened cardboard boxes. She'd tacked up a few photographs and posters before collapsing into a heap the previous night. At least she hadn't landed on the box of books; _that_ would have hurt.

"I'm good," she called, louder and firmer this time, slowly rolling onto her knees and forcing herself to stand. A quick evaluation showed a bruise forming on her knee, and the fact that she was still wearing her father's favourite hooded jumper and leggings from last night.

She glanced at the mirror. Blue eyes were weighed down with bags, her freckles stark on her nose and lips chapped. Dead. Her hair was greasily tied into a hasty ponytail and she looked dirty. Felt dirty, too.

She needed a shower and to find the box of clean clothes. Desperately.

Twenty minutes later, clean and dressed in jeans and a jumper, she wandered into the kitchen. Her hair was drying naturally in waves down her back and she didn't bother with anything more than washing and moisturising her face. What was the point?

Nora stood in the doorway, observing her brother as he cooked away like the next Gordon Ramsey – only less angry. He was tall and slightly lanky due to his long limbs, with the same sea blue eyes and orange coloured hair as hers – his cut short. She liked that they both resembled their father; glimpsing Jon or her own reflection in the mirror... it made her feel like he was still with them, for a while.

"I made you pancakes," Jon remarked suddenly, making her jump. He twirled, revealing the frilly apron she'd bought him two years ago as a gag gift tied around his waist and grinned at her surprised face. "How awesome a brother am I? Cooking and cleaning for you. I deserve a medal."

"That or you'd make a good Cinderella," she commented, sitting down and chomping a huge bite of pancakes. She loved them. They had them so rarely that she was immediately suspicious of his intentions. "Thank you, my affection for you is eternal… but why'd you make these?"

He coughed. A clear indication of potential lying. "I wanted to… make you happy?" He offered it as a question, wincing and avoiding her eyes as he ate his own.

"Jon," she said, going for stern.

Apparently, she was good at it. "Oh fine. I may or may not have squishedyourbikewithmycar."

"WHAT?" She cried, jumping from her seat aiming for the door.

"I'm sorry!" Jon apologised, profusely, heading out after her. He caught another glimpse of Nora's bike's mangled corpse and winced. "Jesus, it looks worse today."

"How the hell am I supposed to get to school?"

"Uh. Pump those crazy legs?"

"A _Simpson's_ reference, are you kidding me?"

"If I say no, will you hit me?"

"I might stab you first."

"Ah," he nodded. Patting her on the head in apparent sorrow, Jon replied, "I _am_ sorry though, Nor. I was so tired coming home from slaving away all day to put food on the table for my beautiful sister, that I must have missed it as I, tiredly, parked in the dark."

She glared. "Uh huh."

Jon smiled cheekily, "I promise to get it fixed."

She pursed her lips, "I hate when you get out of trouble. You're too good at it."

Stomping back inside, Nora involuntarily smiled as her brother called, "It's a talent!"

They finished their meal quickly, Jon practically running to the bathroom because he, 'needed to piss since seven but made an apology-breakfast instead' and Nora to her bedroom to collect her books.

"How was your shift anyway?" She called, sticking her head out of her door. The sound of the tap was muffled before stopping and the bathroom door opened.

Jon shrugged, smiling good-naturedly at her. "It was alright. Made friends with the other bartender, Gary. Nice enough bloke, I suppose."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I'm gonna apply for a job at that restaurant in town. Just a part time one – as a waitress or something."

He didn't say no, but he did look sad and slightly embarrassed. Her brother despised the fact that he couldn't take care of her single-handedly.

"Jon," she raised her eyebrows, "I'm your sister, not your daughter. You shouldn't have had to support me in the first place so please don't beat yourself up 'cos I want pocket money. Alright?"

They stared at each other, blue clashing against blue, until he relented. "Alright. I guess a job would look good on CVs and stuff anyway. Plus, it'll help you with that laziness problem."

"What laziness?" She asked airily.

"You're joking, right?"

Together, they walked downstairs and outside, Jon to his car, ready to drive in the opposite direction and Nora about to start the slight trek to school.

"Sorry I can't give you a lift," Jon said, scratching his neck.

She shrugged, "I'd rather you keep your job than be late for me. See you later?"

"See you later," he repeated before grinning. "We're okay."

Nora looked back at him, seeing his freckled, happy face and nodded firmly, smiling. She knew what he meant. They'd both started to reanimate, return to old habits and tease back and forth rather than share silent dinners.

"We're okay."

She maintained this mantra throughout the day, feeling lighter than she had so far since moving to this town. Predominantly, her day was made up of avoiding more stares from curious students with nothing better to do and sitting outside on her lunch break reading the rest of _The Road_ while listening to _Pink Floyd_ 's The Dark Side of the Moon album louder than was socially acceptable. She didn't submit to Jessica's offer to sit with her friends again because she, to be blunt, disliked her and didn't want to waste her own time.

So, after a reasonably peaceful lunch, it was in English class, thinking about jobs and Jon and her newfound need to embrace academia, that she began to actually befriend Edward Cullen. Since they sat at the back it was fairly easy to converse quietly without the teacher calling for them.

And so, she turned to Edward, reminded instantly that he looked _too_ perfect, his beauty too odd for her to appreciate, and asked, "You don't happen to know if there are jobs going in that restaurant in town, do you?"

Inwardly, Nora cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. She didn't exactly like asking anything that could lead to a personal conversation. It wasn't that she thought Edward would pry but she harboured a deep hatred for confronting anything emotional or anything that could make her vulnerable.

It was survival 101. Her father, lovely as he was, wasn't prone to spouting out emotional monologues of love frequently and with Jon it was sort of expected for him to oversell it when he attempted it – his self-consciousness tended to make him ramble – and so, Nora hadn't really experienced a lot of conversations that also involved emotion. She immediately got defensive, her hackles up, whenever anyone attempted it.

However, Edward, who'd been looking at her slightly blankly throughout her inner thought process, seemed understanding. Almost weirdly so, as if he'd just plucked the information to make sense of her from her mind.

Looking nonchalant, he replied, "The Cosy Club? I believe there is. Despite the growing population of teenagers in this town, few actually attempt to do work."

"Okay, firstly, you sound like an old man," she grinned, "but I do see your point. Laziness is practically engraved on my soul though, so I can't talk."

"Why do you think you're lazy?" He asked, a small frown marring his features.

She turned to face him and noticed a hint of disbelief. She didn't like it – she didn't like people overestimating her. It made no sense and wasted time and logic.

Nora was a pragmatic person. She didn't tend to pick at her flaws endlessly and insecurely try to gain compliments but that didn't mean she was narcissistic – she was aware of her own flaws. One of which, as her brother had kindly pointed out this morning, was laziness. Not laziness in the usual sense but laziness that's entwined with selfishness. She did things for her or her brother because they benefited her or her brother, no one else. It wasn't noble or self-sacrificing but she accepted it because she knew she wouldn't change. The only person put above herself was her brother and that was the way it would always be.

Eventually, she realised she needed to answer the question and not zone out.

"Because I am," she responded, "It's just a fact."

He peered at her, golden eyes shining with… something. "I don't think you are. Your actions, ironically enough, contradict you."

"How would _you_ know?" she demanded, sounding vaguely accusing. "I literally met you yesterday so unless you're stalking me, I doubt you can back up your claim."

Edward's head tilted, studying her curiously. "You're not intimidated by me," he commented randomly, seeming surprised, pleased and concerned. A weird expression on an otherwise stoic face made it all the more prevalent.

"Should I be?" she responded, genuinely confused by the quite frankly _abrupt_ change of subject.

He chuckled, shaking those glorious L'Oréal locks. "Most people are," he admitted. "I find myself as surprised now at your interaction with me as I was yesterday."

"Don't get me wrong, it freaked me out a bit. I mean, you literally have no blemishes on your face; that's just plain weird," she said, eyebrows pushed together. Then, Nora snorted, amused despite herself. "Anyway, no offense but unless your Kit Harington, I'm not going to be intimidated by a pretty face."

"Kit Harington?" He repeated, blankly.

"He's the actor who plays Jon Snow," she clarified. His expression remained. "I fancy the pants off of him despite the fact that his character shares the same name as my brother. Is that creepy? Oh come on – _Game of Thrones_? Seriously?! Man, you need to get a life."

His eyes darkened. "That would be good, wouldn't it?"

Was that… rhetorical?

"O-kay," she squinted one eye, "or instead of that thoroughly creepy and mysterious reply, you could just watch the television series. Read the books first, though. And FYI, the books will definitely spoil the series' plot line. But it's still awesome and gross and my favourite show _ever_. I guarantee you'll love it. Nothing better. Other than _Breaking Bad_. Or _The Walking Dead_."

"I promise, I will watch and read it." He smiled, "Back to the previous topic – I know you're not lazy for three reasons that cover three different versions of indolence."

She rolled her eyes at him, nodding along warily. "Alright," she replied, "hit me with it, pretty boy."

He laughed softly. "Firstly, you walked to school so you aren't physically lazy."

"My bike broke – I'm more practical than anything else."

"Secondly," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "you are thinking of getting a part time job, so you're not lazy in the typical teenage sense."

She refrained from commenting that it was more of a 'get a job or don't eat food' scenario, but whatever.

"And thirdly," he smiled at her, "you're taking Mandarin lessons after school. Broadening your mind doesn't exactly scream mentally lazy."

"How the – how do you know that? Are you psychic?"

He snorted. Loudly. It was the most he'd ever sounded like a regular teenager and a few students near the back actually turned around, befuddled to see Edward Cullen laughing. A feat equivalent to witnessing a dolphin smoke.

Once they'd turned back around, Edward answered dryly, "No funnily enough, I'm not."

"Alright, Mystic Meg," she rolled her eyes, "How did you find out? I literally signed up yesterday. After school."

He considered her question before smirking; "I read your mind."

She stared at him. A beat passed. And another. And then she burst out laughing – after a second, he joined in.

"Seriously?"

He smiled at her, "I saw you come out of Mr Miller's classroom on the way home. It's just the logical conclusion."

"Yeah, yeah. Logic, my arse."

He looked at her, examining her expression it seemed, and then asked another out-of-the-blue question. "Where are you from, exactly? Your accent's slightly mixed. I can't pinpoint it."

He seemed frustrated by this inability which made her laugh; honestly, the guy couldn't be perfect at everything or he'd be beyond irritating to hang out with, even if it was just in English Lit.

"Well, it's a bit complicated," she scrunched her nose, scratching her chin idly, "I was actually born in Dublin. My parents lived there before I was born, but Jon, Dad and I moved to London when I was two," she didn't explicitly state the reason but from the sympathetic nod, she guessed Edward had figured out why they suddenly moved. "Then we lived there, so that's why I think of myself as English – I've been there the most. But, when I was about fourteen we moved to Pembrokeshire in Wales and lived in this little cottage tucked away in a beach cove. Jon, my brother, went to Uni for three years, so he was barely home and it seemed pointless living in such an expensive place like London just the two of us. Then here we are. I guess my accent's a mix of Irish from my Dad, then English and Welsh."

"Do you miss the beach?" He asked softly, not looking at her directly. Maybe he'd guessed she didn't like to talk so much.

"Yeah," she thought back to the grumpily grey skies, the sound of the tide and the salty chill to the air. She'd practically worn a knitted sweater every day there, with those cute matching beanie hat and scarf sets. She'd bought her dad a set, last Christmas. He'd worn it every other day.

Then by spring, he was gone.

"Yeah," she repeated, shoving those thoughts away, "Every day. It might have been a short stay but it was home. What about you?" She asked in an attempt to turn the spotlight away from her. "I heard you moved from Alaska two years ago. Did you live there long?"

Edward peered at her for a moment more before answering, "No. We tend to relocate every few years. Carlisle likes to travel."

"Do you?" She arched an eyebrow. She could relate to moving a lot. Maybe not every couple of years but she _had_ lived in three different countries. Four, counting Forks.

"Do I what?" He asked, casually.

"Ah ah ah," she pointed her finger in his face, "I know what that is – that's deflecting. Do you like travelling all the time?"

He took a moment to reply but eventually settled on, "My lifestyle includes travelling and I want to maintain that lifestyle. So, I suppose I do."

Despite the obscurity of his answer, Nora could tell he was being honest. He might've worded it very mysteriously and vaguely but she got the gist.

"Why did you move here, of all places?"

It was softly spoken and tentative. She got the feeling he knew it was a pretty complex question but wanted the answer, regardless. She paused, running a hand through her hair: a nervous habit. Nora wasn't one to spout out personal information like that but for some reason, Edward gave her this weird sense of understanding. Like he already knew.

It made her wary of him.

But also defeated the purpose of avoiding the question. For whatever reason, she answered him truthfully.

"I think you already know my dad died," she said bluntly. There was no easy way to say it so she went for the 'ripping off the band aid' approach. He looked sad but not surprised. Huh, she guessed she was right. "This property was left to Jon and me in the will. It's our mother's parents' place. They died before we were born and my mother moved to Dublin and met my father, so the house hasn't been occupied in a while. Didn't really want to sit in a house filled with memories, you know?"

"I do," he replied.

She believed him, oddly. He sounded like her when she spoke about this sort of thing; aged, uncomfortable and just plain tired. She remembered then that Edward was adopted and had obviously experienced the same grief she had. It made her like him a little more; not because he was damaged or had experienced bad things but because it was hard for a lot of people to actually understand what grieving was like. It changed you, irrevocably, even if you only acted blatantly miserable for a couple of years. She had days where she was happy and where she was sad, and Edward was one of the few people in this town who wouldn't look at her on her bad days with that God awful expression.

Pity.

It was the curse of grievers everywhere. Pity was something unnecessary and unhelpful; it made you feel inferior and as if your life was somehow lesser than theirs just because you'd experienced something horrible. Yes, her life wasn't fantastic but it didn't make it bloody inferior, it made her a stronger person, perhaps too distrusting and definitely too sarcastic, but stronger nonetheless.

So, as the bell rang and they packed their things away, she headed to her next lesson with a small genuine smile on her face, leaving Edward Cullen behind. Maybe he could be her first - incredibly suspicious and abnormal - friend in this place after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm back. Back again. And I have a stupidly long author's note for you all to scroll past.**

 **Thank you for following and favoriting** **and reviewing – trippy as some of them are, it helps to have feedback. Please keep telling me whether it's alright – I really don't want Nora to become a Mary Sue. She's** ** _not_** **perfect in any way. There's a reason she's not been overly described physically, and that's to avoid any Mary Sueness in regards to her looks: she's not beautiful or ugly, she's just normal. Like the Goldilocks' ideology of beauty: the middle of the spectrum.**

 **So hopefully, her personality isn't too Mary Sueish (I'm just making up words now) either. She's meant to be sarcastic, slightly bitter and selfish: it's who she is. A flawed human being. There** ** _will_** **be arguments, not meeting eye to eye and mini-breakdowns galore in this plot. I had someone inbox me about what Nora's reaction would be to Edward watching her sleep: firstly, that hasn't happened so far and I'm not sure whether it will. Because, Nora isn't an enigma in the way Bella is – obviously, her mind isn't protected, as seen in Edward's reactions, but that's for a reason. The reason's pretty simple – I don't want either of them to like each other based on a) physical appearance (cough, Bella) and b) how mysterious they may or may not seem. Because, what the hell kind of basis is that for a relationship, friends or otherwise? It's not.**

 **Also, you'll see in later chapters, that Nora isn't going to just sit down and let Edward be controlling and I think, if she found out Edward was watching her sleep she'd freak out. I know most sane people would because it's just plain creepy. There's gonna be a lot of growth from both of the characters throughout** ** _Driftwood_** **, and I hope you like the end result – with Edward, I hope no one finds him OOC either, it's because he's talking to a different person so his reactions won't be the same as they are in Twilight with Bella. He knows Nora won't like him being certain ways so he's adapting to her character.**

 **A-and, I hope you don't mind the pace. They're barely even friends now, just acquaintances that think each other are pretty cool, and it's gonna need to build before any professions of irrevocable love. This isn't Romeo and Juliet and I don't want romance to define my character – she's trying to be her own person and find herself after some bad shit's happened to her, and I really bloody hope that came across.**

 **Thank you, I love all of your critique, please keep telling me what you think! Peace and love, people of. If you hadn't guessed when you read it, I watched a load of Parks and Rec before I made this chapter, hence the references or quotes inserted here and there.**

 **Please read my new prequel for this story, Tidal Wave!**

* * *

 **4**

 **Vagabond,** ** _Wolfmother_**

* * *

Jon drummed his fingers against the little wooden kitchen table. It looked like someone had stabbed the end off of it, but they were too lazy to mind. He sniffed disdainfully, gazing at the broken floorboards and chipped paint – should he be attempting DIY or could he get away with calling it trashy chic?

Hm. The kitchen sort of looked like it had been badly reincarnated from its previous life as a dilapidated shed.

"Do you reckon we should attempt to repair this place fully or just leave it?" He garbled through his toast to Nora, hoping she had bat hearing in her bedroom.

As luck would have it, she was currently skipping into the kitchen with her phone in hand anyway.

"I GOT IT!"

Jon stared at her as she jumped happily around his seat, his eyes narrowed. As it was one of his few later starting shifts, he'd agreed to give her a lift to school that morning but refused to dress up for the occasion, and now sat primly in his seat, still wearing an undignified bathrobe with what she hoped was toothpaste stained to the lapels.

"Got it?" He repeated slowly, as if it would help jog his memory.

At his obvious bewilderment, Nora laughed, "The job! They just called! Oh and maybe we should buy another chair for the table before redecorating," she added, pointing out their lack of seating.

Only one of them could actually sit at the table during meals, the other leaning or sitting on the counter top. It was Nora's fault; in a bid to not be late for school two days ago, she'd accidentally pushed one of the unstable chairs over and watched in horror as the leg snapped off. To be fair, it had come with the property, and looked like it'd been sitting in there for centuries.

"Screw the chairs, that's _great_!" He cheered, standing and hugging her. He cursed, pulled away and retied his robe before holding her disgusted face between his hands, at arm's length, "Does this mean we're actually becoming hardworking members of society?"

"I think so. We couldn't hold it off forever," she said sadly, patting his head.

"Well," he hummed, going back to his breakfast, "we can't be raucous youths all our lives."

Nora snorted. "'Raucous youths'? What are we, fifty?"

"Shush, young grasshopper. You're too young and raucous to understand such terminology just yet."

She laughed, munching on the toast she nicked from his plate and sitting on the counter top. It was a good day.

After trekking throughout Forks in search of the elusive Cosy Club, she had stumbled upon it, soaking wet from a sudden downpour, and relieved to get into any form of warm shelter. She'd handed them a – luckily dry – copy of her CV, which she was fortunate enough to already have waitressing experience on from a seaside café back in Wales.

Nora believed that part time jobs were an essential rite of passage for teenagers because, not only did it mean they were becoming financially independent, it also offered them a chance to realise that life isn't defined by homework, cheap vodka and smoking cigarettes out of your bedroom window when everyone's gone to bed. She liked working, it kept her busy and more importantly, it would take up more of her free time that would've otherwise become what she thought of as her 'brooding hour', where she'd veg out in front of her laptop and wish to never see the light of day again.

Finally, verging on an entire week later, she'd been given a phone call from them saying that she'd got the job working some days after school and every Friday night, which was perfect for her – free weekends to finish homework and go over her newly purchased English-Mandarin dictionary.

She'd had one session with Mr Miller so far, and despite his brusque teaching method she found him refreshing. He didn't give false praise or treat her like a child and Nora thought they had reached a mutual agreement of generally respecting each other even if he found her, directly quoted, a "ginger pain in his ass".

So, all in all, she felt good. She was being proactive, doing well in school and Jon – who'd apparently sent her bike to some recommended teenager on the reservation not far from them – had promised she would be able to start riding to school again starting on Friday. Since it was Wednesday, she wasn't too worried and that meant she'd be okay to ride to her first shift at the restaurant straight after school.

They'd managed to get through their first fortnight of the school term. It'd been weird, a struggle at times, but they'd made it to the other end and somehow, it felt like a lot of the tension in her shoulders was finally starting to relax. Which might be more to do with the fact that no one stared at her like a baboon in the zoo anymore, rather than any legitimate emotional evolution.

"By the way – have you seen my fluffy, pink slippers? I lost them."

Staring at an article on the latest up-and-coming bands in a fresh copy of _The Seattle Times_ , Jon sipped his coffee with a grimace, sticking out one foot, "Guilty."

On the end of one, hairy, gangly leg was her ridiculously fluffy, neon pink slippers – a gift from Jon when he still thought she was in her 'girly phase'. Now, Nora was pretty sure he'd bought them to use himself.

She lobbed the last piece of burnt crust at his forehead. "Thief! Go put on some underwear. I need to go broaden my mind away from your unsightly behaviour."

"Don't talk to your betters in such a tone," he gasped, grabbing the newspaper sprawled across the coffee table and heading to his room. "I'll put on boxers but I refuse to disrobe or de-slipper. I have rights."

"You have the right not to flash people, Jon. That's your right."

He just patted her shoulder, a pitying smile on his face. "Oh Nora, you beautiful, naive, sophisticated newborn baby. So simple minded."

With a snort, Nora grabbed her Algebra books from the table and headed out to their car, Jon following. "If you're already quoting tv shows this early in the morning, I think we should consider cutting down on our Netflix binging. Honestly, we probably should anyway - it's ruining our image. We're becoming mole people, brother. We're those people you see in garages after two AM, buying Doritos and shaving cream."

"We all need life goals," he quickly unlocked the doors, shivering from the wind. "Christ on a _bike_ , its cold!"

"Yeah, that might be because your only in your pyjamas, Jon."

"Whatever," he grumbled, beginning the daily gamble: would the car start on the first attempt? Due to, well, general lack of money, Nora and Jon had fished enough money from their bank accounts to pay for the cheapest car they could find in the nearest garage. It was a dirty red, tiny, Peugeot 306 - not the prettiest, flashiest or even the best milage, but good enough for the bare minimum.

Basically, both of them were just overjoyed that they didn't need to re-enact _The Flintstones_ on their way into town.

After a few turns of the key, the car sputtered to life and, defying its physical disabilities, quickly got Nora to school on time. They pulled in next to a bright silver coloured Volvo, making Nora laugh outright at the contrast in vehicles.

"You know what they say," Jon commented as she got out of the car, door wide open, "flashy car means - "

"Get out of here, you lunatic," she laughed, closing the door and waving cheekily through the window. In return, he gave her the finger, pulled out and disappeared to do God knows what. As long as it wasn't illegal or expensive, she didn't mind too much.

"Is that your brother?" Came a sudden voice, startling her enough to jump like a moron and yelp.

Hand on heart, Nora turned incredulous eyes to an intrigued Edward. He was looking eerily beautiful as ever in a blue sweater that complimented his pale skin. Every time she saw him, she felt underdressed. He was in designer fashion while she wore – she looked down – a white t-shirt with her regular straggly jeans and beaten up trainers that were more brown than white.

"Bloody hell Edward, could you not creep up on me like that? I enjoy, you know, living!" She shook her head, "And while you're at it, stain your clothes with grass or something. I feel like you're forcing me to become the 'ugly friend'. Not cool, man."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the slight upturning of his lips. Yeah, she made him laugh but he was too proud to admit it, the bastard.

"Tomorrow I'll come in dressed like I've been mugged. Will that please you?"

She mock-frowned, "Are you saying I dress like a tramp?"

"If the muddied shoes fit."

"Sorry, Calvin Klein but this is as fashionable as I can be."

He sighed, "That's a shame, I so enjoyed our friendship."

She hummed, "Anyway, yeah that was Jon. He's a little..."

"I like him," said Edward, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked towards the empty car space. "He's a lot like you. Especially as he insulted _my_ car."

The Volvo sat pristinely beside them. She didn't know how she hadn't already put two and two together - Edward was obviously well off and the car did suit him, just like her car suited her.

"He called it flashy which technically sounds flattering," she offered, scratching her head.

He scoffed, "Right. I don't mind anyway. He was driving _that_ ," he waved in the general direction Jon had taken. The word might as well have been a curse for all the disgust in his voice; she figured she should probably be offended but Edward's pomposity just amused her.

"Hey man, don't insult my ride," she joked. "It's not the prettiest but it has four wheels so suck up your elitism and admit your car is hella flashy, Mr Fancy Pants."

"It isn't. It's just a good car that won't break down after two miles," he muttered. "Unlike _some_."

"Woah, Edward, who knew you could be such a bitch?" She gasped, putting her hand on her mouth and shaking her head.

Before he could reply, a bell-like giggle erupted from behind them. Edward looked irritated and, as they turned around, she figured it was because of who interrupted them: his sister, Zombie Tinkerbell - peppy but pale as ice and really tired looking, hand-in-hand with her boyfriend, who she couldn't for the life of her remember the name of. They were staring between herself and Edward, riveted as if they were prime time television Nora guessed it was because Edward didn't exactly have a lot of friends other than her.

Unfortunately, she sucked at introductions so this was bound to be a horrifying experience for all involved.

Zombie Tinkerbell smiled slightly manically at her and as Nora smiled genially back, she noticed that the girl was actually bouncing on the balls of her feet. She suited it though, the whole 'I've just drank ten espressos and I'm gonna creep you out with kindness' thing.

Beside her, Edward snorted and at his laughter, the siblings golden eyes' - they were identical in colour, seriously what was up with this family? - shot to him. The girl looked thrilled at his laughter while the boy - man, if she were being honest - looked sceptical and... pained. Pained as a shot panda. Or someone in need of the loo.

Laughing again, Edward decided to be a pal and introduce her. "Nora, this is my brother and sister," he began but was thwarted from continuing by a flying pixie.

The sister practically tackled her, and soon Nora found herself in a surprisingly firm, icy cold grip. These guys really should consider going to the doctor - slash father - for a circulation checkup. That temperature was _not_ normal.

"I'm Alice," squealed the girl, pulling away with that same cheerful grin. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Nora! I know we're going to be _great_ friends!"

Nora, dumbfounded, disturbed and a little amused, grinned back at her. "I hope so," she commented. "I think I've outgrown my current Cullen friend anyway. He's way too misunderstood and hip for me to handle," she nudged him with a smile as he scowled at her.

"Gee, thanks," said Edward, with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

"It's alright. We all have faults. Yours is your pretentious alter ego, Edward Sullen," she said solemnly.

At her words, Alice giggled, Edward scowled, obviously, but the pained boy actually managed to crack the smallest smile in the history of expressions. She figured she should take what she should get and just stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to name himself.

"Jasper Hale, it's nice to meet you," he drawled with a very slight Southern accent. It was one of those accents that made you instantly picture him in a cowboy hat, as stereotypical as that was.

"Likewise," she grinned. She didn't think he meant it - he was standing a pretty solid distance away from her and still looked pained - but she didn't really care that much.

Then they were interrupted _again_. It was as if she had a beacon honing in on all the people she sort of, kinda knew.

"Brennan! You better be coming to our session tonight. I've had to record tonight's episode of _Dancing on Ice_ to fit in this language mentoring," a growling voice said. Turning to her right, she saw Mr Miller - she found out his name was actually Derek, which suited him to a tee - walking towards reception, a thermos in his hand. Given who it was she really questioned whether he had coffee or just straight whiskey in there. She wouldn't put it past him to drink it without blinking. He just had one of those faces; a mix between Rick Grimes and Ron Swanson.

She raised her eyebrows, "I never took you for a fan of that, sir."

This wasn't judging a book by it's cover, this was her remembering his rant that 'the tv producers of those cheesy celebrity competitions deserved corporal punishment'.

"I'm not, my wife insists we watch it together," he huffed. "Apparently it's the type of things happy couples do."

She blinked at him, "Right. Well anyway, I'm definitely gonna be there. You can go all Mr Miyagi if you want. Or Yoda. Yoda would be cooler but also confusing 'cos you're teaching me a language and he... speaks backwards."

He glowered, "I don't think so, Brendon."

"Brennan," she corrected, "you literally just said it."

He smiled, walking away, and called over his shoulder, "I know. When people get too chummy with me, I like to call them by the wrong name to let them know I don't really care about them."

She stared after him, "Thanks!"

With a laugh, she turned around to see only Edward beside her now, looking like he was trying not to laugh at her. "Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes, slapping him with her bag before beginning to walk together through the doors and towards their lockers, "he totally has a soft spot for me."

"Yes," Edward nodded. "You're probably right. See you later, Laura!"

He waltzed off in the opposite direction, chuckling and leaving her to shout, "Shut up, Sullen!" in his direction, disturbing a few latecomers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys. So, I created a rushed prequel to this on my profile if you fancy a different POV on Nora's life pre-arrival in Forks. Also, in this chapter I'm introducing my final (probably) OC. I really hope you like her. Or hate her, she's kind of like marmite. Enjoy! Also, the song on this chapter is _amazing_. Donnie Darko lovers rejoice!**

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 **5**

 **The Killing Moon, _Echo & the Bunnymen_**

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Nervousness was not a trait Nora tended to exhibit.

Ironic, considering she was set up for the perfect nickname. Nervous Nora. Or Nellie, or whatever the hell that saying was.

Well, cycling on her tweaked, brand spanking new bike, she felt like a Nervous Nora for the first time since she'd started school in a foreign country.

It was silly, just a simple waitressing job, nothing to worry about, and yet she couldn't stop the butterflies – or, let's be realistic here, _wasps_ – that currently fluttered – _stung_ – her stomach. Maybe this was like a midlife crisis for teenagers. Or she was finally emitting the nerves that should've arrived with puberty; she always had been a little thick skinned.

By the time she'd egged herself on enough to get there, the Cosy Club was already pretty lively, people entering and exiting happily with their partners. It was a romantic spot, the only one for miles, and looked quite nice with all the potted plants bordering the mini-walkway and the double glass doors. The whole place was open plan but low lighting to bring some pizazz and _atmosphere_ , with bricked walls, candles on every red clothed table and a polished mahogany bar on the left.

There was even classical music playing in the tiny speakers situated near each corner of the ceiling. She dreaded to think what it was like on Valentine's day, the very thought was sickening enough.

After finding her new boss near the entrance – a friendly, black woman named Elena Crowley – she was marched to the backroom where another girl sat at a tiny table. She was holding an ironed black apron in her hand, ready to put on, and another packaged one lay waiting for Nora on the countertop.

"Sorry to love you and leave you Nora, but we're getting pretty busy out there now and unfortunately, I'm at the front desk tonight since we're still understaffed," said Mrs Crowley apologetically, a smile on her face. "This is our other waitress – you two have joint shifts so to speak, and you'll basically share all the workload. Lola here used to work with the waitress you're replacing, Abby, the one who just up and left," she rolled her eyes in light hearted annoyance. "Anywho, Lola's been filled in on all you need to know so any questions, she's your girl. I'll hopefully see you smiling in a few hours, sweetie. Good luck!"

And with that, her boss scampered away, leaving Nora with her other, way better, half.

The girl before her was her polar opposite. She was pretty and well put together, with long, curly blonde hair, lightly tanned skin and a nicely curved figure. The only thing the pair shared were blue coloured eyes and that might as well have been another difference: while Nora's were mixed with green, a reflection of the sea, this girl's were startlingly sky blue with a dark outer rim of blue which emphasised them, drawing attention in a sultry, flirty manner.

She was what boy's dreamt up as the ultimate girl next door, and she was staring at Nora's rushed ponytail, lack of makeup that gave freedom to any spots or freckles and slightly prudish black t-shirt and trousers with distinct distaste. Nothing special; the trousers were cigarette straight, flattering but not overtly so, and the t-shirt was high to her neck, short-sleeved and roomy. Comfortable.

The girl was in a tight black t-shirt tucked into a flared black skirt and little black bowed pumps, her hair in a perfected messy bun, a few strands falling to frame her face.

"Well my esteem just got taken down a few notches," Nora muttered with a sigh. Was everyone in this town pretty? Lola wasn't like the Cullen's eerie beauty but she was still up there on 'girls you see in American tv shows' in terms of looks. She wasn't sure if the girl heard her sigh or not but she seemed to smirk a little in return. "I'm Nora Brennan, your new and improved partner in crime. Or just in waitressing, whichever you prefer."

The girl stared with slightly elevated eyebrows before responding simply in a surprisingly monotonous voice, "I'm Lola Johnson. You any good?"

"At waitressing or crime?"

The girl rolled her eyes, turning away to grab a notepad and pen and shoved them indelicately into Nora's hands. "Follow me, newbie, into the depths of hell."

With that ominous statement she strutted out of the doors into the main serving area and Nora laughed, a little hysterically, before following her. Maybe she'd be alright.

As it turns out, Lola Johnson was pretty apt at describing the job. Everywhere Nora turned, couples demanded refills, side salads, a rare steak over a medium one, and argued over smoking indoors. The fake smile on her face made her jaw ache and her teeth grit together every five seconds, her hair had to constantly be tightened and she learned first-hand how difficult it was to memorise a three-page wine list.

Luckily, she managed to sway the customer's opinion in her favour. Each couple or family left a pretty decent tip and a flurry of compliments about all the things they'd originally complained about, and, with a wish for them to enjoy their evening, she'd hurriedly tidy away plates, scrape off leftovers, bleach her hands accidentally while wiping the tables spotless, and breathlessly welcome their immediate replacements.

It was like a customer factory – every spare table was filled within the blink of an eye, a line formed steadily out the door, and Nora began to find enjoyment in a mutual roll of the eyes with Lola who, although quick, skilled and friendly, seemed just as tired as she was. She took that as a good sign, that the work genuinely was taxing, instead of her original assumption that she was a fat lump.

It was while she was serving a customer a diet – do you have ice? Lemon? Lime? Actually can I make it a diet? – Coke, that she faltered.

The drink was slippery and cool, the residue clustering around the glass and subsequently wetting her fingers so that when she handed the drink to a lone bottle blonde, busty woman who reeked of fake tan and coconuts, and said woman decided to flutter her hands in delight, banging into Nora's wrist hard, it slipped from her hands, landed on the table and slightly spilled.

 _Three_ drops of coke fell onto a bright yellow purse and the woman froze in melodramatic horror.

"You just _stained_ my _favourite_ purse!" She gasped, mouth open, allowing Nora a perfect view of the pink lipstick staining her front tooth.

The smile was robotic at this point. "I'm so sorry, ma'am," she apologised. "I'll get something to clean your purse and get you a refill right away."

The woman sucked in her cheeks and then smiled sweetly, "And a free Pina Colada for my trouble?"

For a moment, she imagined just pouring the drink over the woman's head. It would dampen and ruin her perfectly curled hairdo, would muddy and blur her makeup so she resembled a tanned panda, and the chiffon, matching yellow top she was wearing would shrink and darken into a vomit colour.

Instead, she nodded with that apologetic smile glued to her lips, "Of course, ma'am."

She walked away, fists clenched so tightly it was painful, and grabbed a tonne of napkins, a damp cloth, and a newly poured drink. Screw restaurant policy. Screw manners. Screw that bottle blonde.

With a sigh, she asked the bartender, a man named Donald, "could you make a complimentary Pina Colada for table seven as well, please? Some of her original drink spilled."

He was a twenty-something guy who'd apparently begun an internship at the local hospital and needed this to pay rent. His hair was cropped and mousy brown, his skin slightly sallow from what she assumed was a lot of sleepless nights in the ER, and his eyes were a pretty stormy grey. All in all, a nice guy who had a face that made you automatically vent out all your frustrations.

Donald's eyes travelled across the room curiously, landed and then gave her a sympathetic wince, "Don't let it get to you, carrot top. That's Sandy Pearson, our very own local stereotype of the gold digging bitch. She's in every week and let me tell you, she _complains_ every week too."

"Really? So I'm not just a failure of a human being deserving of death?"

Another voice perked up, monotonous as ever, "I had to give her a free G&T last week for 'stepping on her foot' which randomly stuck out from the table all of a sudden. Don't let it get to you. I heard she's prob'ly gonna be leaving town soon anyway."

Nora turned, intrigued, to Lola. She'd thought the girl would ignore her for the rest of her shift but as it turned out, she was actually pretty decent. A bit disdainful and a lover of gossip, but for some reason that was way more appealing than the happy-go-lucky cheerleaders she'd met in Forks' High so far. Currently, she was leaning over the bar, secretly texting on her phone, blue eyes glancing up shiftily to make sure Mrs Crowley didn't notice.

"How come?" Nora asked in a low murmur, attempting subtlety à la James Bond.

Lola chuckled coldly, placing the phone back in its hiding place.

"She might act dumb, but she's ambitious and manipulative. Karen - the other waitress, works on Mondays and Thursdays - said that apparently she's only been coming in here every week so she can make eyes at Mr Jones – the senile guy by the bar, loaded obviously, who leers at anything in a skirt. She's not exactly inconspicuous about it, but he's not caught on to her true colours so far."

Her eyebrows raised but before Nora could comment, the cocktail was ready. With a quick nod at Lola and Donald, she headed back over, slightly less irate, to Miss Sandy Pearson.

"Here's your coke, some napkins, and the free cocktail, ma'am," she said as kindly as possible, offering the napkins which were quickly snatched from her grasp.

The woman, who couldn't be older than twenty five, sneered in disdain but muttered an empty, "Thank you so much," before wiping her purse with dainty strokes. It was all a bit weird and bordering on inappropriate feeling up of an inanimate object, but to each her own.

Gossip was always meant to be taken with a pinch of salt, but Nora couldn't stop herself from noticing that, as she sat smugly, tapping her clawed nails on the table, Miss Pearson _was_ unmistakably flirting with someone. Her glossed lips were pouted and her eyelashes fluttered quickly, a coy smile turning her lips upwards.

When she smiled, she looked pretty. And yet, as Nora followed her gaze to the frail, elderly gentleman leering and smiling a grimacing, gold toothed smile, Nora couldn't find any prettiness in Sandy Pearson's character so far.

Swallowing bile, she quickly excused herself. Lola caught her eye and mouthed, "Feel sick yet?"

Nora just grinned widely and offered an overdramatic thumbs up.

Her shift passed quickly after that, more and more orders being completed, more and more tables being wiped, and eventually she was sitting on a barstool in the empty front room, forehead resting on the cool, recently cleaned bartop, with Lola sidling over to sit beside her.

"How'd you find your first shift, then?"

"Blegh, don't talk to me, I think I'm regenerating."

She heard a loud snort. "You're such a dork. Anyway, I'm getting a lift with my boyfriend. Need one?"

Slowly, Nora lifted her head to look at - apparently - her first proper female friend. She was blunt, rude and gossipy and Nora genuinely liked her. "Nah, I've got my bike. Need the air on my face. Although my feet might actually bleed," she grimaced in thought.

Lola smirked, waggled her fingers at Donald and said, "See you next week, newbie," before departing.

"Huh," said Nora, wiggling around to face an amused, tired Donald. "She totally likes me."

"Maybe. She's a hard one to crack; I sometimes think she secretly plots to kill us all."

Nora pursed her lips in thought, "Yeah, I could see that. Sociopathic eyes."

"Damn straight, sister."

Finally after a thorough hug and brief recounting of any problems, with Mrs Crowley, Nora left to get her bike. The heels of her feet rubbed against her trainers, undoubtedly leaving blisters, and she mentally noted to wear different shoes next time as she pedalled. The wind whipped her face nicely, refreshing her and letting her finally breathe in air that wasn't tainted with red wine, candle heat or bleach. It was wonderfully bitter out and, although it was dark, she enjoyed riding fast along the dirt paths as she reached the unpopulated part of Forks, not far from her house.

On the journey, she slowed to breathe and found herself passing a fantastic piece of architecture. It was a gorgeous house sculpted predominantly out of large, illuminated glass windows. The entire design was tucked into a gap in the trees, off a side road - the same road that eventually led to her house right at the end. She'd never cycled or drove slow enough to truly take in the property and admittedly gasped a little as she took it in.

After a moment of gawping, she carried on pedalling further down the path, thinking over her night.

She'd not only worked her first shift, but sort of made new friends. Donald was lovely, although his older age made it hard to properly converse about anything other than the job. Lola seemed, surprisingly, more approachable. She thought it might be that her own bluntness and sarcasm complimented the slightly disdainful tone Lola exemplified, and sort of acted as a buffer against what other people might find offensive. Nora didn't take words too seriously - she joked it off or gave as good as she got, simple.

Her dad was gonna laugh when she told him she'd actually made -

Wait - No. God damn _no_.

"Shit," she gasped and skidded abruptly.

The bike swerved into a more hilly part of the path, a stray tree branch getting caught in the front wheel and causing her to catapult over the handle bars. With a loud thump, and a sudden brightness shining in her blurred eyes, Nora collapsed in a scratched heap on the ground.

She wanted to lie there forever, pain or no pain. She thought back to her first day, her idea of becoming one of the woodland people; the idea was certainly becoming more enticing by the minute.

What the _hell_ was that?

Oh yeah, she was just _forgetting_ that her dad was _dead_.

She sighed, struggling to sit up and leaning her forehead against her bent knees when she eventually managed it. Lucky she was wearing a helmet really, she thought, absentmindedly removing it and chucking it to the ground beside her.

Her arm twinged painfully.

Why did she have to think it? How did she even forget it, even for a second?

Guilt hit her hard, whirling in her stomach, making her feel so nauseous that she almost cried. Nora knew her faults - tended to wear them as a badge of honour on her t-shirt: too sarcastic, too quick to judge, too bitter and too selfish.

Now, she had to add 'forgets her own father's passing' to that ever growing list.

One good day, one new friend, and suddenly she was wiping the slate clean of her past? No. Not again.

"Fuck," she murmured. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK."

The forest remained silent; her curse echoing in the breeze.

"Nora."

Her heart raced. She glanced up to see simple trainers, trousers, and a nice grey t-shirt. The clothes, although designer, were disheveled and dirtied with leaves and mud.

Edward. Why the hell was Edward here?

Did he hear her cursing?

Did he see her crash?

"What the - what are you doing in the middle of the forest?! You know, I thought you'd end up being a stalker. I just had this gut feeling," she muttered, ignoring the dirt all over her own clothes and attempting to stand.

A cool, pale hand clutched her muddied one, tightly, _too_ tightly, pulling her up the rest of the way.

She turned to thank him; turned and found him just standing there, close to her. So still.

Not a breath of movement.

Edward's face was oddly blank, his entire body stiff. No, not stiff, _coiled_. Ready.

For some reason, he didn't look beautiful to her there, under the moonlight, his face expressionless. He looked like the beauty was a mask. He looked like something was stretching beneath the surface of the skin, something awakening.

She stared at him in confusion and something else struck her -

His eyes. His golden, pretty, honey coloured eyes were black as night and boring into hers with a frightening intensity. His nostrils were flared, lips tightly clamped shut, and he looked incredibly close to launching himself at her and... she didn't know what.

But it scared her. Innately, fear bubbled within her, a primal instinct, and the hair on her arms stood up.

She didn't move. She did nothing but say his name warily, maintaining eye contact, "Edward. Your eyes..."

He seemed to stiffen further, if possible. He didn't even look like he was breathing now and suddenly, those demonic black eyes shut and he gritted out, "I think your arm's bleeding."

She didn't want to but instinctively, she glanced down at said arm. He was right. The forearm was a sickly white, almost glowing under the moonlight, and the blood trickled from a bad graze on her elbow like a river down her arm, dripping off her fingertips and landing silently on the ground.

"Oh," she muttered but instantly returned her gaze to her - friend?

But for some reason she couldn't call him that anymore, no more than she could call him a boy.

Because something in her screamed.

 _Lie_.

He wasn't a boy. He was a male. There was a huge difference.

There was something on his lips. Something darkening the corner of his mouth, that she couldn't quite see. It was -

A male, what? She didn't know but it wasn't good, and it made more and more sense as she stared at him that Edward _wasn't_ normal. She'd known it from the beginning, under layers of sarcasm and jokes about good looks or coldness, lying to herself about the identical golden eyes they all seemed to have despite being unrelated...

The Cullens were hiding something. It was dangerous.

And Edward looked close to revealing it, even if he didn't wish to, right then, on the dirt path.

"I have an extreme phobia of blood," he muttered, still staring at her paling face, black eyes reading her. It felt like he was covering his tracks and yet, what was she supposed to do? Confront him?

She laughed hollowly, it sounded false even to her own ears. Nora felt her ears ringing with the laugh and then ringing louder, with the silence that followed.

"I have to go home," she said slowly, retreating slightly towards her bike. It wasn't broken, just a bit scraped, and she could pedal home. "Jon's waiting."

She didn't want to admit that she'd said that as an incentive for him. Someone was waiting for her.

Someone would notice if she disappeared.

God, what the hell was going on?

Edward just nodded once and as she climbed back onto her bike, even as she pedalled away, he remained there, unmoved and silent. She could feel his black eyes following her. He licked his lips and a droplet of that dark substance fell from them.

Blood.

 _RUN._

She shot up, gasping in bed, drenched in sweat and slightly hysterical. A quick glance at her window showed it still locked and shut; she was safe.

"What the hell was that," she muttered, hands still shaking. She looked down at the smooth, untouched expanse of her arm, one finger trailing a phantom scrape.

All she'd done after work was cycle home as usual, think over her new friends and recount her day to Jon.

"Just a dream," she whispered to herself. "Just a fucked up dream caused by too much stress and too much cheese before bed."

So why did it feel more like a warning?


	6. Chapter 6

**I genuinely don't know why I'm updating these so quickly. You know when an idea niggles in your mind? Yeah, this is that. Not sure if I like this chapter but it is what it needed to be. Please review/favourite/follow!**

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 **6**  
 **Iron Sky, _Paolo Nutini_**

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Her mind was a jumbled mess. Bits and pieces of a dream lay fragmented, scattered through her thoughts like broken glass. But she easily remembered Edward's cold, black eyes and the innate fear telling her to run.

Why? Why did she dream of Edward with black eyes at all, when his own were honey gold? This morning, to be certain she wasn't legitimately insane, she spied on him from her car – not particularly inconspicuously, since he nodded in her direction, distracted from chatting to his sister, Alice – but his eyes had still been that distinct gold. As all the family members she was willing to maintain eye contact with had shown.

Biting her lip, she tried to shrug it off. During English Lit she had carefully shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind, not wanting to fear her friend just because of some stupid dream, and managed to semi-enjoy the lesson.

Edward had asked her if she was alright but she'd brushed it off. It was rude but he seemed to accept her lack of response and she thought he might've just assumed she was feeling low that day – it wasn't exactly uncommon while grieving.

Of course, as soon as that thought entered her mind, it was all she could focus on anyway, reminding her of the other part of her dream; she'd forgotten her dad's death. She spent the remainder of the lesson doodling in her notepad, headphones in and wondering, what sort of a person did that make her? The conclusion? A bad one.

Now it was lunch and she really didn't fancy either sitting outside – no surprise, it was raining – or in the cafeteria. She'd sat alone reading before, it didn't bother her, but she really didn't want to be around Edward that day. So, she headed for her haven. The library. Maybe she'd watched too much _Buffy_ as a kid, but the library always seemed friendly and homely. That, or she had to admit to herself that she really was a nerd.

Humming quietly, she all but skipped through the stacks in search of the tables. She'd sit, read some of her Lit novel and relax. Maybe go over Chemistry notes.

Ha, yeah, as if.

However, as she reached the general area of tables, she spotted one other person in her haven.

Lola Johnson.

The girl looked up and Nora realised, seconds later, that she'd spoken aloud.

"Nora Brennan," the girl replied, looking surprised. And smirking. Nothing new there, then. "Why are you in the library?"

Not wishing to admit that 'fear of friend' was an unreasonable answer, she deflected, "Why're you? Don't get me wrong or anything, I'm glad you're here. Smashing through those dumb blonde stereotypes one book at a time. I like it. It's a modernist approach."

Lola rolled her eyes and gestured to her books, "Well, hate to break it to you but I'm studying for a class I'm failing. So the dumb blonde stereotype still stands."

Nora plonked herself opposite the girl, uncaring of her indignant stare, and swerved the textbook around to find that it was the one they used in English Literature.

"Nah, don't worry. As long as you don't start chewing bubble gum or wearing polo t-shirts, you're not _quite_ there. Anyway, if you're failing English I can definitely help. I'm sort of a master. A guru if you will."

"A guru," she repeated. Or spat. Both were correct for Lola's reaction.

"Sure," she grinned. "Come on, _Lola_. Don't make me sing _The Kinks_ at you. It'll annoy you more than it ever will me."

Lola frowned, "I'm not named after that song."

"Ah but you've heard of it, haven't you? La, la, la, la, Lola," she sang quietly, laughing as Lola attempted to swat at her with another hefty tome.

"Alright. Jesus. Help me out. I can totally tell you're only here to avoid your own problems, by the way, but I'm not turning down free tutoring."

Ignoring the insinuation, Nora raised an eyebrow. "Who said it was free, lollipop?"

Forty five minutes of attempted studying, mainly resorting to bickering back and forth as well as discussing the likelihood of a nuclear holocaust taking place before the next calculus test – they may have had different schedules, but Mr Varner's math tests hurt all. It was nice to relax and be herself for a bit. Weird, hanging out with a girl considering the key figures in her life thus far had been male, but she shrugged it off.

"So come on," said Lola, "what's wrong with you that you wanted to hide out in here?"

"What do you mean? Maybe I like the smell of must and dead trees. Don't assume things."

She snorted, "Maybe I assumed 'cos your eyes look like a crack addict's? All shifty and wide, it's creepy. Just tell me. I can probably help. Plus, I sort of owe you," she admitted. In a sing song voice, she patted the chair beside her, "come on, tell Aunty Lola all your problems."

Nora scrunched up her nose, "That was disturbing. Please, don't ever do that again."

"Ok, fair point. But don't tell me it didn't entice the crap out of you to spill the beans," Lola said, pointing at her.

She snorted and considered just spilling all her problems right then and there. It would probably be nice.

Therapeutic even. It's what those counselling sessions she kept avoiding were for. But she just... couldn't.

Instead, she settled on an easier answer. "My only other friend in this hellish place is Edward Cullen and he sort of orientates around his family, you know? They're all about family. Kind of like the mafia, only much prettier."

Lola nodded, wide eyed. "I can see it. Don't worry about that though. Hardly anyone in this dump is worth talking to for more than a minute," she rolled her eyes.

"Hold up," Nora said, palm up and everything, "aren't you one of the most popular people in our year?"

"Yeah?" She confirmed, looking confused how that denied her point.

She hit her forehead on the table three times before she managed to look up at her. "If you hate the people, why befriend them?"

Lola sighed wearily as if she'd aged thirty years just from the question. Slowly, she packed up her books and stood up. "Maybe because if I don't, I'd end up hiding out in the library," she replied pointedly. "See you tomorrow lunch?"

"In here? Of course. It's like a second home to me. Seriously."

Lola rolled her eyes and snorted, leaving with a shake of her blonde, flawless curls.

By the end of lunch, Nora admittedly felt better. Less guilty and not at all scared. When she saw Edward in the corridor, she gazed at him, saw him smile and remembered that he was her first friend in this town.

That counted for more than she wanted to admit aloud.

"Hey," she greeted with a smile.

"Hello. Where were you at lunch? I didn't see you at your usual table," he replied, eyebrow arched. He genuinely looked interested and that made her feel warm.

It was funny because their friendship wasn't exactly normal, just like her friendship with Lola wasn't. They didn't sit in the cafeteria together – barely acknowledged each other outside of class actually – and yet, she felt like he truly liked her.

"Hiding out in the library, making friends, staying hip," she shrugged, "the usual."

He chuckled quietly. "The usual, huh?"

"Sure," she nodded, walking towards her locker. Lockers were still a strange American thing she wasn't used to. "Even helped out a student with their homework; I might as well be Mother Theresa at this rate."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Yes," he replied sardonically, "you're truly a saint."

"Yeah and don't forget it, pretty boy. Anyways, I've got to go learn me a different language."

"Enjoy yourself," he smiled.

She waved goodbye and headed to Mr Miller's classroom. The door was unlocked so she went in, seeing him sitting and eating lunch at his desk. "Do you sit in here to hide away from people you don't like?" She asked because screw it, she needed a different opinion.

He swallowed his sausage roll and frowned at her, "Yes. Unfortunately, people manage to slip in."

"Derek, Derek, Derek. Why create a class you don't want to teach?" She shook her head, laughing.

Mr Miller shrugged. "I don't mind it too much," he said, his eyes narrowing on her. "You're surprisingly decent to teach. Plus, you've picked it up quicker than I expected."

She smiled, grabbing her booklet from her bag happily.

"Plus, it means I don't have to teach Gym."

"Of course."

"And if you call me Derek again, I'll set fire to your notepad. Honestly, you have the least respect for authority figures I've ever met."

"Alright, alright!"

An hour passed quickly, and by the time Nora got home she was surprised to see Jon's car in their driveway.

He hadn't mentioned he was coming home earlier. When she entered, she found him sitting on their lumpy sofa, one hand holding a dog eared photograph, the other shakily covering his mouth. His eyes were downcast but in the light they shone, wet with unshed tears.

A wave of guilt settled over her and no matter how much she bit her cheek, she still felt it, and it made her nauseous. Jon was struggling. Because of her, he had been forced into the parental seat, obligated to ditch his plans of travelling, his friends, and his _life_ , just to come with her to the property left to them in their father's will, somewhere not haunted with melancholy memories, and take care of her.

All the while, he was grieving. Trying to get money, trying to help her survive high school in America, and still grieving in the background.

Always in the background because he didn't have an opportunity to do it anywhere else. Nora swallowed the lump in her throat and walked over to sit next to him, looking down at the photo. He barely jumped at her sudden entrance.

It was one of their dad, playing with them on a sunny beach. He was grinning like a maniac, holding a two year Nora in one arm, and putting a giggling, red faced, seven year old version of her brother into a headlock with the other. He looked carefree; the wrinkles brought about by her mother's death weren't present on his face, he had less of a scruff than he would later in life.

She wasn't in the photo but Nora knew her mother was holding the camera with the warm, friendly smile that seemed to be etched onto her face in every photo they had of her. They were happy – a proper, put together family.

"This is my favourite one," murmured Jon, sniffing heavily and wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand. "I remember that day so clearly."

"Where were we?" She asked. Not because of an interest, but because Jon needed this; needed to be able to talk about their dad, a man who was just as important to him as he was to Nora.

"Ireland. Dad wanted to see Granddad before he passed so Mum agreed to travel up to the coast and we just kind of made a holiday out of the weekend," he said, blinking quickly. There was a faint smile on his face that oozed nostalgia and wistfulness, the same smile on hers. "Every other day was pissing down rain except that one," he continued, "and we practically _ran_ to the beach…"

He chattered on for a while. His eyes seemed to gleam in the glow of the lamplight, but as he reached the end of his words, he sat there silently. When her eyes glanced over at him from their morbid daydreams, she would catch him gazing at the picture again, a deadened emptiness to his eyes. His face transformed into a hollow, morose caricature of her brother.

It was the same gaze as her own, sometimes. It was unavoidable.

She slept restlessly that night, after leaving Jon to his memories and his grief.

She didn't know how to comfort him or help him because she felt it, too. And as she heard her heart beat in her ears, she wondered whether it was truly as mournful as it sounded in her mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**When you read the chapter, I guess you'll be able to tell my mood. I felt like Nora needed to have this though - I don't know if any of you have ever grieved, but it's the little things that make you practically blow up. So, here.**

* * *

 **7**

 **Time, _Hans Zimmer_**

* * *

Grief had good days and bad days. The good were still painful but you managed to plaster on a smile, walk out the door and fake your way through it.

Bad days were unexpected. It's when the drifting feeling came over you and suddenly, everything became meaningless except your own pain and how much you didn't want to be anywhere near school, people or the world at all.

Nora didn't know it was a bad day. Didn't know it was gonna be a day where she had three different hotspots of grief throughout the day. It seemed to be an echo of the mood she'd been in last night, while sitting with her grieving brother.

That morning, she'd been late for school, rushed out, hair down and flying everywhere, and had considered getting a bobble but realised she was too late to go back for one. She knew she should speak to Jon but part of her, selfishly, was too scared. That selfishness tiptoed her past his bedroom door and out the door.

So, as she pedalled manically, she made a promise to talk to him that night. She got in just in time for English, sat down with a slight pant, and focused.

Pens scribbled, people hummed quietly to their headphones, and their teacher looked practically asleep after assigning them to peer mark their partner's essays.

Nora had finished Edward's almost immediately, barely a blemish to the page, because it was brilliant. There was no denying her jealousy at how good it was.

But she didn't mind too much as he'd seemed impressed by her own as well, giving her a solid 'A' grade which she'd grinned at; sure, she was practically failing Algebra but she was badass at English. So to pass time, they'd been quizzing each other for the past five minutes on all their 'favourites': favourite colour, favourite season, favourite person, favourite food, etc. For her, orange, autumn, Jon and Snickers chocolate bars. For him, blue, spring, Carlisle and a laughed out, 'venison'.

By this point, she'd decided to ignore the dream because she was turning a molehill into a mountain. Or in this case, a friend into a crazy psychopath who was a danger to her. Especially after practically hiding from him yesterday; she felt bad because he hadn't done anything to warrant total shunning. He was just a guy. A handsome, kind, pompous one, but at the end of the day, he was a friend.

Edward seemed a lot more relaxed than he ordinarily did. She'd seen him brooding as usual this morning in the car park and she wondered once again, considering how intelligent, kind and surprisingly funny he was, why he didn't make any friends other than – apparently to the shock of everyone – the snarky, grief stricken, downright rude newcomer.

But there he was, always with the small smile, eyes glimmering with what she wanted to call friendliness but was probably just politeness.

"Why do you talk to me?" She blurted out during a lull in their conversation. Yes, it was blunt and borderline accusing, but she wanted to know. It seemed so out of character. His family always seemed surprised when he nodded at her in the corridors – if you could call Alice's manic grin or the Rosalie chick's glare 'surprise'.

She wasn't anyone exciting. She accepted herself as she was completely: a bratty teenager with anger issues, trust issues and a hatred for people during meal times.

Edward's response was to frown at her, unimpressed. "Because you're my friend."

She rolled her eyes petulantly, "Yes but _why_? You're not exactly a social butterfly."

He sighed, annoyed, but answered her nonetheless. "Because you didn't fixate on my appearance as many hu-people do, you're remarkably intelligent, mature when you're not being sarcastic, and I find what you say amusing and interesting. I like to listen to you talk and talking with you, like this."

Well, that was certainly an answer. She was slightly dumbstruck by his sincerity.

"Jeez," she laughed, trying to lighten up the tension, "put a ring on it first, Edward. Bloody hell."

He just rolled his eyes. "Whose turn was it?"

"Yours."

"Okay... Favourite music?" He asked, golden eyes curious.

She thought about it, tapping her pen absently against her knee. "Um, I can narrow it down to… _Queen, Led Zeppelin, David Bowie, Fleetwood Mac_ a-and," she paused, " _Radiohead_."

"A lot of rock bands," he shook his head.

"Not a fan?"

He smiled at her and she ignored how pretty it was. "I do but I prefer classical music."

"Do you also prefer fine wines and smoking jackets?" She joked, a teasing grin on her face.

"No to the jackets, wine… I guess red liquid is my forte." His grin and his words seemed ironic for some reason but she couldn't put her finger on it; whatever it reminded her of, her memory was too hazy to truly understand it. He quickly continued though, "So, why are those your favourite?"

Nora didn't answer straight away. She usually deflected from answering anything veering towards personal, with sarcasm or a blatant change of subject. But… maybe she could say this. It was easier, simpler than most off-topics.

" _Queen_ and _David Bowie_ for my mother, they were her absolute favourites apparently so I listened to them out of remembrance and then grew to love them," she said quietly. Edward's eyes had softened and there was a sympathetic understanding to his expression that she appreciated and hated in equal measure. "And then, _Fleetwood Mac_ I started listening to when I found their 'Rumours' album under the couch while hoovering – just got hooked I guess. _Led Zeppelin_ have and always will be our family band. I remember sitting with Jon and Dad and going crazy for Since I've Been Lovin' You, air guitars and everything, after Easter dinner. We loved listening to music together and just relaxing," she smiled unconsciously. "And _Radiohead_ were Dad's favourite. He idolised them. Their song, No Surprises, always reminds me of when I was something like seven and Dad was re-decorating my room from pink to blue because I'd grown out of having a highlighter pink wardrobe, and that song came on, with these bell chimes playing at the beginning. We just listened to it together, me on the stairs, Dad painting away. It was so…"

"Peaceful," supplied Edward, breaking the haze that'd come over her.

She'd never spoken about her father in so much depth to anyone outside of Jon. Thinking about him unleashed the same torrent of pain that had crippled her last night, and her face crumpled slightly.

"Yeah," she croaked.

It wasn't Edward's fault. It was hers. She shouldn't have answered – she should've stuck to sarcasm, that was safe and secure and it didn't burn her chest.

All she could think as she turned away slightly, eyes glaring at her essay, was how much she missed her dad. She missed their spontaneous musical sit-downs. She missed him coming home, whistling and randomly twirling her around as he walked in the front door. She missed his inability to cook unless music was playing.

But it wasn't just music, was it?

She missed _him_. His kindness hidden behind a gruff exterior, his slightly morbid sense of humour, the conspiracy theories he'd make up about postmen, his love of history and learning all he could about past wars. He would know what to say to Jon to make him feel less self-conscious and unworthy as she knew Jon did. He would hug her tightly in the school car park, uncaring if he seemed too emotional or uncool. He would smile and look so handsome that she understood why people always flirted with him in supermarkets.

He would be here and she would love him and cling to him like she had as a child. God, this was all Jon's fault; if he hadn't cried yesterday she wouldn't be currently.

She was breathing heavily. Too heavily. Her eyes were hot. Too hot.

Why was breathing so bloody hard all of a sudden?

Oh God, she was having a panic attack. No, no, no.

Cold seeped into her shoulders, ice clamps. "Nora – listen to me – "

Why? Why did this have to happen to her, to Jon? They'd already had their mother taken away, wasn't that enough? Hadn't they suffered enough?

They needed their father. She needed him to be here, now.

"Nora, count down from ten with me – here we are, 10, 9 – "

8, 7.

But he wasn't here.

6, 5.

He wouldn't come in and fix everything.

4, 3.

He was dead.

2, 1.

Her breathing slowed and she slumped in her seat, tears streaked down her face and chest heaving. She couldn't look up – she knew from the dead silence that everyone was staring at her.

"Are you alright, Miss Brennan?" Asked their teacher.

She didn't look up at him. Please, don't make her look up.

"I can take her to the nurse." That was Edward.

Then they were moving, or trudging, and out of the classroom and she was sitting on the cold pavement outside with a glass of water in front of her vision.

"Drink it, it'll clear your throat," said Edward, who was currently kneeling in front of her, eyes kind. "I thought you'd appreciate the fresh air."

She didn't want to. She wanted her father.

She was crying again, she knew.

Her head fell into her hands and she cried. Death was hard.

"Nora," said Edward. How much time had passed?

She glanced up at him, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and sniffed hard. "Sorry. I guess I'm just really hormonal today," she said in an attempt at humour. She didn't want him to stare kindly at her or speak in soft tones anymore. She needed to get over herself, get through the day and spend time with Jon.

Jon would help her. Jon would understand.

"I can tell the nurse you're unwell," he offered with a small smile, "get you out of your remaining classes."

She considered it, almost accepting but ultimately knew it would somehow end up biting her in the arse. Facing the guaranteed gossip today would be easier without adding 'bat-shit crazy new girl ditched classes' to the long list of rumours hurtling her way. She could almost see the words 'teen pregnancy' springing from the mouths of Jessica Stanley and her minions.

She would stay in and shun everyone and everything. She'd ace the crap out of her Mandarin class, then cycle like a madwoman home before crying again, this time with hot chocolate.

Nora looked up at Edward, shaking her head but smiling anyway. He attempted to talk to her, comfort her, but she shut him down every time.

It was rude and he didn't deserve it considering how nice he was being about her mini-breakdown, but she didn't need him.

She would be okay – she had a plan now.

But Nora wasn't okay and her day didn't get better, it just got worse.

As she'd already mentioned, she'd forgotten in her haste to escape the house that morning, to bring a bobble with her to school. The thing is it sounds like a little, insignificant pet peeve, but it _wasn't_. For some reason it became a niggling in her head. A hammering against her skull.

Grief was a complex emotion. It sprung up on you, mercilessly, and had the oddest triggers.

For Nora it was the lack of a bobble to tie her thick, orange hair back.

She was in her third class of the day, Spanish with Miss Goff who seemed friendly if you spoke to her in her mother tongue – which was fair enough, considering this was a Spanish class but when you just need to hand her some homework, she could've been a little bit more lenient.

The room was stiflingly hot as a result of the heaters blasting air out at all hours of the day. To top it off, the class was packed with hormonal, fidgeting children, the windows sealed shut against the dismal weather outside, and she'd forgotten to put on a bra this morning so she had to keep her jumper on to avoid looking promiscuous. She felt like she was slowly being boiled.

As she sat down, she immediately felt stares riveted to her, searing unrelentingly into her back and front.

Shuffling through her bag, vigilantly ignoring the stares, her ears picked up the nearest conversation.

"That's her, isn't it?"

"The orphan? Yeah – apparently she lives with her brother across town."

"Meg said she had a breakdown in English class this morning, can you _imagine_? I'd be _so_ embarrassed."

"I know! I heard she fainted or something."

Nora clenched her jaw, and, feeling her neck prickle with sweat, hastily searched for a bobble. All she wanted to do was scrape her humidified hair from her neck, scrunch it into a messy ponytail and revel in the coolness on her skin. But she didn't have one.

Of course not. She sat and stewed, imagining she wasn't in a classroom with nosey, bratty students, imagined she was sitting on an iceberg or locked in a freezer.

But it was still hot, and combined with the uncomfortable attention, her face felt slick and clammy.

She stared at the green Spanish translating-dictionary sitting pristinely on the desk before her, refusing to respond to anyone until the lesson began.

She swallowed, her throat sore and blinked quickly. Her eyes were hot and wet.

She would not cry. Not here, not in this humid classroom in front of rabid pit bulls masquerading as students. No. It was her _final_ lesson before lunch and she refused to cry here in this classroom.

So she didn't. She held it all in with a magically strong will and waited until the bell had shrilly rung to power walk to the bathroom and lock herself in a dingy toilet stall. She forgot to meet Lola in the library, forgot that other people could easily walk in, and cried.

Tears fell, hot and heavy, making her feel horribly muggy in the head. Crying always did that. Anyone who walked into the bathroom would probably assume there was a dying horse in one of the cubicles considering how loud she was being.

Eventually, she calmed down and stared blankly at the writing scribbled on the walls.

 _Jessie luvs Ryan_

 _Call ******* for da best fuck of ya life_

 _Bitches be hatinnn_

Sniffling, she rubbed her eyes and tried to curl into a ball when a timid knock vibrated against the door she was currently leaning against. Part of her was seriously balancing the consequences of ditching her Mandarin class later and going home: just for the sodding bobble. But she couldn't do that to Mr Miller; he'd only arranged for an extra session this week because she'd asked. She couldn't ditch.

"Nora?"

Oh, great. It was Alice Cullen – she bet Edward had sent her in after she'd embarrassed herself that morning. She considered just staying silent and letting Alice get out of having to attempt a comforting conversation with her.

"I know you probably don't want to talk, so I'll just leave this for you," chimed Alice out of the blue. The girl was seriously a psychic. "I saw you in the corridor and you looked overwhelmed and I know when I'm overwhelmed that the little things always bug me. So here."

A pale hand shot under the door, appearing besides her holding a pretty pink scrunchie. Her face scrunched up again and she almost sobbed aloud but managed to hold it in and shakily retrieve the gift, shoving her sweaty hair up and out of her red face.

The hand disappeared, and the sound of footsteps echoed against the tiles, evenly spaced.

"Alice?" She said with an incredibly scratchy voice.

As if this were a normal, everyday occurrence, Alice simply responded, "Yes?"

"Thanks. You're a good friend."

"You're welcome, Nora."

She left then, and Nora remained in her cubicle for the end of lunch, only escaping to wash her face with cold water. No matter how much she attempted to rub her eyes, they still looked empty and miserable, her entire face was splotchy and generally shit, but she didn't have the strength to care. She didn't have the mental capacity to see a blaringly obvious question, either.

Why did Alice Cullen - the pixie with a pixie cut - just so happen to have a scrunchie on her when Nora needed one?

Instead of thinking that, she headed for her last class of the day: Chemistry. She studiously devoted herself to the textbook, aiming to improve herself in one of the classes she sucked at and ended the lesson, not entirely satisfied and feeling a bubbling hatred for all her classmates who had snickered and/or pointed at her throughout the hour.

By the time she actually attended her Mandarin class, sat down and delved into the helpful booklet, she had lost her tether. She hated getting angry but, more importantly, she despised crying and being sad and having to feel this _ache_ inside of her _all the time_. It wasn't fair and for some reason, she decided to take it out on Mandarin Chinese.

Mr Miller didn't exactly looked nonplussed when she suddenly had an outburst of pure anger, but then again, he was a stoic man.

"I know, I know – it's just, why do they make these bloody languages so _sodding hard_ to understand or learn?! Who thought _that_ was a good idea, huh? 'Oh yeah, one of the most spoken languages in the world, let's make it impossible to read.'" She said all of this in a rushed, hyperventilating mess, before placing her head in her shaking hands. "Bunch of pricks, the lot of them."

"It's alright," he reassured her, his usual frown in place but with concern added to the wrinkles. She liked to think so, anyway.

"I didn't realise you were so passionate about Mandarin Chinese," he mused, sitting on the front of his desk, right beside her own table. No one else was in the class – apparently, the two who had signed up almost immediately dropped out so it was only her as a student. She thought it was partially because of how terrifying Mr Miller could be but that was just her.

"I'm not," she admitted. "It's not that at all."

"I figured," he said, humorously, eyes careful.

Nora sniffed, wiping her face and glaring, trembling lipped, at her booklet. "I didn't have a bobble. For my hair," she clarified at his arched brow, "in class. It was just… so damn hot, you know? Guess I got overwhelmed. I borrowed one from a friend at lunch but… it got me riled up."

He nodded sympathetically despite his short hair. He knew she wasn't upset about struggling through a new language or her lack of a hair tie – Nora didn't think him an idiot. But, she did think him a God send. Because he didn't ask her if she was alright or even ask her what was wrong, he just sat in front her, marked the rest of her booklet and handed it back. On top of it was a mini-Snickers.

She looked up, amused but confused.

He just shrugged, chomping on his own. "I always keep a spare."

That day, she learned two things.

One, she hated people her age and wanted to machete the lot of them, excluding Edward and his kind smile, or Alice and her strange tendency to know exactly what you need.

And, two, Mr Miller was a good teacher and a better person. Even if he did scare the crap out of people.


	8. Chapter 8

**Here ya go, hopefully this is a reasonable depiction of sibling relationships – I'm really close with my sister, so I tried to depict that closeness here. Hope you enjoy! Also, if you want to ignore your imagination and see how I picture my characters, go on my profile!**

 **Thank you for the review, seriously, especially the one saying Nora isn't a Mary Sue - I kind of got worried that she seemed like one.**

* * *

 **8**

 **Sweet Disposition,** ** _The Temper Trap_**

* * *

"So, I called in and ended up being given advice from the school counsellor," Jon commented, slowly sitting down beside her on the front step.

It was eight in the morning and, despite the ever increasing chill as they merged into winter, Nora wanted to sit outside in the fresh air for a bit. Despite yesterday's determination to stay in school and ride the wave of giggling rumours circling her, she couldn't find it within her to attend today. Instead, she'd woken up at the usual time and told Jon she was on her period and had really bad, alien springing from her womb-style cramps. After a disgusted look, he'd agreed that she could ditch.

She sipped her tea, hoping to put off the conversation.

"Nor, it's alright."

"I know," she replied instantly before wincing. That didn't sound defensive, _at all_.

He chuckled, nudging her with his elbow. Sometimes she tended to forget that Jon knew her better than anyone; unfortunately, that meant he was usually good at wheedling out appropriate emotional responses to things like this.

"If you hadn't broke down crying in school by now, I'd be concerned," he confessed. That made her turn to face him – as always, he looked a mixture of happy, sad and sheepish. But also more relaxed than the other night, as if he'd cried out all his stress. If she was honest with herself, she sort of felt the same. It was as if she'd been cleansed or something.

"Why?"

"For one, it's school. Some kids cry just for that reason alone. But you've had a lot to deal with and I know you'll say you don't," he said, waving off her attempt to interrupt, "but you do. Moving country, everything with dad… it's hard, Nor. I struggle just getting out of bed some mornings. Crying's good. It means we're not lying to ourselves."

Eventually, Nora sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. She felt him lean on her in return. It felt like it was just the two of them when it was this quiet in the morning, attempting to take on the world together.

"I wish I hadn't though," she admitted quietly. "I bloody hate crying. I hate all of this, Jon. Not the moving, I don't mind it as much as I thought I would; it's the feeling I keep getting whenever I'm not busy."

She felt him nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I, I get that too."

"So what do we do?"

He was silent for a bit, fiddling with a loose thread on his jumper. It was one of their dad's, a forest green one that looked loose on Jon's lanky body, but somehow right as well. Maybe that was just her being sentimental, though.

"I think," he eventually said, "that we just tackle every day as it comes. We can busy ourselves with the bar and school and your new gig at the restaurant but we can't try and hide from our emotions. It'll just come back and bite us in the arse, ultimately. If we want to cry, cry and if we want to laugh, laugh. You know?"

"Yeah."

"We're okay though, Nor," he said and this time, a genuine smile spread across his thin lips, mirrored on her own face.

"We're okay," she repeated, firmly, meaning it. Changing the subject from her own vulnerability, she added, "but I'm not going to that sodding counsellor."

Jon groaned and she laughed and they stood up, the moment over.

"Can't you be a model student and just attend the bloody things? Being responsible is hard enough without your teenage rebellion added to the pot."

"Jon, I'm not a member of the freaking _Breakfast Club_ , I'm not gonna suddenly write an essay about how people expect me to conform to certain stereotypes or anything. No rebellion, here. I just hate whining about my feelings to some uppity university-degree-with-legs named after a wizard in Harry Potter."

" _Is_ he? Seriously?"

"Roger Davies. Honestly, that's his name. I think."

He whistled, twirling her around just like her dad used to do. And that time, she didn't feel the twinge. She just felt warmth.

"Damn and that's not even one of the cool ones, is it? Couldn't have been called Dumbledore or something. That would've been awesome."

"It would," she agreed, glancing at the clock as they entered the kitchen. She did a double take, "Uh, Jon? You're late for work."

He grinned. "Not today."

"Why do I have a bad feeling?"

"Because according to you, you're suffering from menstrual cramps."

She glared in response.

As it turned out, her loving, kind, wonderful brother had taken a sick day after receiving the school counsellor's wrath. He demanded that they participate in, 'sibling bonding', which apparently pertained to them hiking all over the place like compass-less lunatics. It was nice weather, at least, and by that, she meant the thundering clouds were a lighter shade of grey than usual and it wasn't raining.

Panting from the exertion of walking into the middle of nowhere, Nora narrowly avoided death via tree-root and commented, "We're lost."

"No we aren't," Jon dismissed, "we're exploring the unknown."

"The unknown we're currently lost in, you mean?"

He huffed, jumping to pick a leaf from a hanging branch, "Live a little, sis."

"Hey," she said, mock-offended, "I live a lot, man. I'm practically Bear Grylls."

"Isn't he the guy who _literally_ eats shit?"

"Well, I'm not _that_ much like him."

They laughed, carrying on their hike. Nora felt lighter that day, happier too. Being around her brother had that effect; he was the only family she had left and his presence was comforting. Familiar.

She was glad she'd skipped classes, glad to walk into the wilderness, because it made that emptiness fade a little. It made her feel like she'd be alright eventually, and that Jon was right - they had to take it all one day at a time.

Her positive thinking was interrupted rather abruptly by a rustling sound. Nervously, she glanced in the direction that was covered with a camouflage of green and brown foliage, and then, suddenly, a man pushed his way past a particularly large tree branch, stopping short at the sight of them. They did the same in return - Nora instantly realised the man was a police officer, considering his outfit, and he seemed to be on the job.

He was a man of average height with the most impressive moustache she'd ever seen. He was brown haired and brown eyed, and somehow, just from looking at his uncomfortable scratching of the neck and the way he kept shifting his feet, she could tell he was an awkward soul. Nora was by no means the most social of people, but this man took the cake.

"Hi," she said, with a cheery wave. Jon offered a hello as well but otherwise they all sort of stood there.

Eventually, the man coughed and gruffly said, "Afternoon sir, miss. You must be the newcomers from England."

Neither of them corrected him as typically, people assumed they were from there rather than Wales. It was a more iconic country of Britain, after all. Nora was a little unnerved that instantly, he knew who they were but it made sense. A combination of small town incessant gossip and their prominent accents.

"I'm Chief Swan. It's nice to meet you but... shouldn't you be in school?"

Nora floundered under his amused but disapproving stare; Jesus, she was actually going to be caught truanting by the chief of police. Bloody hell.

Of course, this was when Jon decided to interrupt. "I'm afraid Nora is ill today, Chief Swan," he declared with a firm nod.

The cop, obviously, raised his eyebrows in disbelief. His eyes even twinkled a little because it was so obvious that the girl with a healthy blush in her cheeks, shorts and a large _'I'm afraid I just blue myself'_ t-shirt, was perfectly fine. "Ill enough to go hiking?"

Jon visibly twitched, "Oh, is _that_ what you thought we were doing?"

"Isn't it?"

Even Nora looked at Jon at this point to witness his response.

He laughed nervously and quickly, "No, no, we were, um..."

"Yes?"

"We've recently become Pagans!" Jon blurted out with raised arms as if he was celebrating that fact, "Yeah, I thought I'd bring Nor out into nature, you know? See if it helped her feel better because being around trees is supposed to help..."

"And it did," Nora grinned, gesturing to her face, "I feel much better now."

Jon put an arm around her shoulder, weakly saying, "Thanks to the... trees."

Chief Swan stared at them but offered no comment. He seemed to shake it off and instead asked, "Neither of you happened to have seen a tall, black haired boy by the name of Sam Uley in your travels? He's been missing for two days now."

Nora frowned. "No," she answered grimly, "I'm afraid we haven't."

"Do they have any idea why he's missing?" Said Jon, looking concerned but also curious. It was a bit random for them to be having this conversation, she supposed, in the middle of the woods.

Chief Swan sighed, wiping a hand down his face wearily. Now that she'd looked at him properly, Nora could tell he was tired. "Honestly, we suspect it's a run away. They're not that uncommon and he's got a bit of a temper," he commented before realising he was talking to two strangers. He coughed again, awkwardly running a hand through his hair, "Well, I'd best be off. Got to continue the search. You be on your way now, enjoying the... trees," he smirked, nodded and left.

Then, silence unfolded.

Until -

"Pagans, really?" Nora laughed, shoving her sheepish brother.

"I was watching a documentary on them last night. I'm pretty sure trees inducing health is bollocks though," he admitted, chuckling a little himself. "C'mon, we better head back."

That evening, as Jon fiddled with his guitar in the living room and _The Smiths_ played from their iPod dock in the corner of the room, Nora went hunting.

"Jon, where's the coffee gone?" She called, opening and closing cupboards like a whirlwind.

"Uh…" footsteps sounded and seconds later, he appeared in the doorway looking far too sheepish. "I may have drank it."

"All of it?" Nora asked, incredulous.

He rubbed his neck; a habit they'd both picked up from their dad and one that still made her both happy and sad whenever she saw him do it.

"Kind of."

"Kind of as in yes, or kind of as in no?"

"Yes."

Honestly, it was like getting blood from a sheepish, ginger stone.

"I'm going out to buy some," she declared, heading for her room to grab a jacket. Yes, it was a Friday and way past the time of day where coffee was acceptable, but she felt sluggish from the walk and slightly melancholy – not something in need of developing further. She was trying to maintain the happy warmth from earlier in the day and she knew from experience, that coffee always helped. It was her version of comfort food.

"Don't be late! And if you happen to see, say a giant bar of Cadbury's – I would owe you my life!"

Only a twenty minute bike ride later and Nora was wandering carelessly through the aisles, trying to find the one thing she _did_ want to buy amidst the tampons, chocolate – picking up a huge bar for her pregnant woman of a brother - and bread.

Coffee.

She was a bit of a coffee fiend, really, and she knew Jon was trying his best, bless him, to get her out of the habit. At least she wasn't as bad as she used to be – drinking twenty cups a day and shaking like a rabid dog in between each fix was probably a clear enough warning to stop.

Now she had to ration herself to two cups a day, maximum.

"Kenco, Nescafe, Kenco, Nescafe," she weighed each one with a keen eye. It was an important decision that required a carefully thought out response. She looked at the prices, saw that Kenco was cheaper, and nodded. "Kenco, it is."

Coffee jar in hand, she waltzed towards the till area, almost bumping into a boy on her way.

"Shit, sorry," she apologised, cringing at her curse.

The boy, who looked around her age, was tall and buff, with carefully gelled brown hair and a haughty expression. "Yeah," he grumbled, tone accusing, "you should be."

And with that, he swanned off. She gaped after him for a moment before turning and almost bumping into the second person of the night, man she was on a roll, except this one she actually knew.

"Lola?"

"Nora?"

There was an awkward silence as the two stared at each; Lola wearing a pink dress with matching heels, a carefully made up face and glossy blonde curls, and Nora who looked like a homeless person in ratty blue jean shorts, her father's jumper that had paint flecks from Jon and her attempting to brighten up the kitchen last weekend, and flip flops because she'd been in a rush.

"Well this is sufficiently uncomfortable," she laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears.

Lola rolled her eyes but her lips twitched upwards. "Still as dorky as ever," she commented with raised brows, "I'm here with my boyfriend, Peter."

Oh God. "He wasn't that douche I just bumped into, was he?"

The glare she received gave her the answer to that unfortunate question.

"He seems…"

"He's a footballer," Lola clarified, as if that surpassed his jackass behaviour. She sounded both defensive and anxious, but Nora ignored that, instead just nodded along.

"I heard about your meltdown in English class."

Nora's head snapped up, perhaps glaring a little, but Lola remained stoic in the face of it. In fact, she even looked a smidge understanding which was… just plain weird.

"Yeah," she admitted, "I got a little too passionate about Romeo and Juliet. All they had was a fling followed by suicide, the poor bastards."

"We don't start that until next year," Lola pointed out, squinting at a chipped nail.

"Doesn't mean I can't be passionate about it!"

The blonde sighed as if she'd expected this reaction. "Okay, don't tell me. I just figured when you weren't in the library yesterday – "

"Shit – _sorry_!" How many times was she going to swear-apologise today? But she did feel bad. After the horrors of yesterday, she'd completely disregarded her promise to meet Lola in the library for their lunch break, and as it turned out, it had now come back to bite her in the arse.

"…that you were embarrassed or something. I wanted to tell you that you don't need to be; people'll get over it eventually. It could've been a lot worse," Lola finished grimly, something making her frown.

Nora almost questioned her but decided against it; if she wasn't going to ask what Nora had been crying about, then she wouldn't demand to know Lola's secrets in return. Although, she was pretty sure most people knew about her father by this point. Especially after yesterday.

"Listen – I've got to go brew up some of this baby," she indicated her coffee, "So I'll see you in work, yeah?"

"You're just gonna be drinking coffee on your own, all night?" Lola asked, disbelieving.

"Yes," she replied sagely, "As you can probably tell, I am the height of cool and sophistication. Now if you'll excuse me – "

"Are you busy tomorrow night?"

Nora stumbled for a moment, even going as far as checking behind her for another person. "Uh, no?"

Lola smiled. Or smirked, it was kind of hard to tell since disdain seemed to be her default expression. "You are now – you'll come over to my house after work and we can get drunk together."

And with that, she whirled around, a blur of pink, and waltzed away as if everything was right with the world.

"Okay then," Nora said to… no one.

She snorted. She liked Lola; yeah, she was a bit bitchy but Nora wasn't exactly a saint. Lola's headstrong nature was actually refreshing compared to most of the overly cheerful, creepily eager people she'd met and ran from at school.

She'd actually made one female friend. Now all she had to do was apologise for blubbering and then shunning her male one and all would be dandy.

She deserved a medal.

A medal in the form of delicious brown liquid and her _TARDIS_ mug.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi – I have another slice of… Nora pie. I don't know, okay? I just know I've got a reasonably decent chapter for you lucky children to devour. Like a pie.**

 **I'M SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN A-A-AGES AND SORRY FOR A SHORT CHAPTER.**

 **Anyway, please, please, if you have any good in you, pleeeeease review. Just a comment on what you think because, honestly, it helps to know what people think of this story – after all, it's pretty much just my brain vomiting out Twilight mush.**

 **On that note, thank you to those who have reviewed. Especially,** ** _Lovely Traum_** **, I'm blushing from your complimentary words. The one thing I wanted was for this story to seem like a natural progression – hence, the perceived snail's pace of action – so to hear that you think it's natural is freaking** ** _wonderful_** **. Thank you so much! As for Jon, I intended for him to seem slightly immature at times – I figured, he was just your average guy before, close to his family but not the born leader, y'know? That was always his dad. Now, he's trying (sometimes failing) to fill his father's footsteps, becoming the authority for Nora, and that doesn't always click. If he became instantly father material, I thought that would seem too forced.**

 **And I promise that Edward is in this chapter! Nora hasn't really had any proper interaction with him in a while, so I thought I needed to dedicate this chapter to plenty of conversation between the two.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **9**

 **Boys Don't Cry,** ** _The Cure_**

* * *

Awkward.

She didn't particularly like the word, let alone what it meant, because she often found that the ever-feared label 'awkward' wasn't aptly placed. Sometimes it seemed like people just stereotyped with it – there were the confused, quiet, shy types who were all blanketed under one title of _Socially Awkward Geeks_ which was not only unfair but untrue too. Sometimes people really are just quiet. Not awkward. Not uncomfortable. Not weird. Just confident _and_ quiet simultaneously. Was she seriously the only one who got that?

And then, there were the people like her, who tended to revel in making other helpless souls twitch in their discomfort. That wasn't necessarily awkward… more, purposely difficult or blunt.

Nora couldn't really deny it, either; she _did_ enjoy that feeling of making other's uncomfortable. She knew it was a little cruel but, honestly? When someone is talking _at_ you rather than _to_ you, or is only interested as long as the conversation resorts to gossiping, or gives off a crappy vibe, or even just delves too deeply into Nora's purposely locked up personal life… her go-to response was sarcasm.

Then, she'd unload _so much_ sarcasm that they drowned in it, leaving behind two people: her, with an amused, smarmy grin on her face, and her victim, the one avoiding eye contact and twisting their hands incessantly, attempting to fill a long, painfully loud silence.

But, it seemed karma had finally settled upon her.

As of five minutes ago, Nora had been standing by Edward's locker, engulfed in her first embrace of sheer social discomfort. She could feel the awkwardness clinging to her bones, rolling off her back and slick to the sweat of her palms. How did people deal with this feeling? It felt like it came from nowhere, overwhelming and mentally incapacitating her in one fell swoop.

Well, not nowhere – she knew _exactly_ where it was coming from.

From the dreaded thought of seeing Edward again after she'd previously bawled all over him and then ditched the poor sod. She had pulled off a smooth cry and run, and now she had to suck up any remaining dignity or confidence in the awkward husk of a person she seemed to be becoming, and go act natural.

Natural a la Nora, anyway.

Speak of the devil.

"Good afternoon, Nora."

She yelped, jumped a foot in the air – something that should be hard to do considering how heavy her combat boots were – and turned to see the face of all her current problems. He was dressed more casually than she'd ever seen him in a light blue button down shirt, white undershirt and a pair of jeans. _Jeans_. Momentarily, she was thrown off her not-brilliant game, but soon she returned to her stellar ability to act.

"Edward," she grinned, hoping it wasn't a grimace, "what a surprise to see you here."

"In school? Right next to my locker? I can see how that might be shocking."

Her friend, leaning casually against the window, sheltered from the pouring rain outside, didn't express anything beyond a twitch of the lips, as if he wanted to laugh but was too polite to do so in the face of her embarrassment.

Well, screw him.

"You weren't in school yesterday," he pointed out quietly, his head tilted to the side like a curious puppy.

No. She hadn't been at school. Because school meant people, people included Edward, and Edward was a glaring reminder that Nora wasn't as 'fine' as she'd been spewing out since springtime.

"Way to be a stalker, Eddie," she retorted, heaving the strap of her bag further up her shoulder. She didn't need to – it just gave her hands something to fiddle with. "It's healthy to rebel against the system. Stops you from being too square."

Edward didn't take the bait. He didn't joke, laugh or even roll his eyes in response.

Instead, he just hummed, rocking back on his heels and drumming an obscure rhythm against the metallic door of his unopened locker.

"It's okay, you know," he implored, catching her shifting eyes.

Nora wanted to feign confusion. She wanted to ask, what's okay? Me? Yeah, I _am_.

She wanted to never have to lie about how super-fucking- _okay_ she really was.

She wanted a lot of things.

They stood there, cloaked in absolute silence, and Nora floundered. She had no idea where to look or what to say. These moments with Edward, seemed to be becoming a regular occurrence; intense, personal conversations.

Intimacy.

They were developing a shared intimacy. She _despised_ it. She felt naked, like she was baring her throat to a predator.

Beside her, Edward seemed to stiffen at something but otherwise remained mute.

Eventually, Nora caved first. "Ugh," she groaned, "I'm – I'm sorry, alright? I just – I don't," she exhaled quickly, closing her eyes. When she reopened them, she met Edward's intense stare. She wondered how he could be so open like that, always expecting someone's mind to be spilled out before him, all the nitty gritty details of her emotional turmoil-thought process. "I'm not good at all this vulnerable bullshit, okay?"

"You mean expressing yourself?"

She opened her eyes to glare at his innocent face. "Yes," she gritted out.

He seemed to be enjoying this far more than he should be, she thought.

So, instead of continuing the spew of awful apologies, Nora stuck her hand out silently. In it, was the entire first season of _Game of Thrones_.

"I thought this might make up for… you know. Ignoring you. Shunning you. Dismissing you."

The boy stared at it intently, and for a moment she didn't think he was going to take it from her. She winced, laughed slightly awkwardly and threaded her fingers through her hair. He didn't want it. She didn't blame him, her version of 'sorry for crying and then running away' wasn't even slightly normal, healthy or conventional.

"Really it's beneficial – you needed to start watching decent TV," she babbled.

Her hand pulled back –

And he took it, his icy cold fingers brushing hers and sending a chill down her entire forearm like a wintry river. She forgot sometimes, how _cold_ Edward was. How different.

When she glanced up at him, sneaking a mental snapshot of Edward, an unmasked, surprised expression on his face, she saw him staring at their joined hands with a frown. It wasn't angry or sad or… anything she could name. It looked like he had suffered an unwilling epiphany.

Either way, she jerked her hand back and Edward soon became unreadable.

"So," she stuck her hands back in her pockets, rocking back on her heels, "we good?"

"Yes," he murmured, seeming thoughtful. Not that he wasn't _always_ thoughtful. "Are you going to watch these with me?" He asked, suddenly, peering down at her.

She froze like Bambi. Watching television… with him… outside of school. That would be proof of how _cemented_ their friendship had become, wouldn't it? Did she want that?

Her original plan entering this forgotten town and tiny little school had been to trudge through it with a heavy dose of cynicism and maybe get good grades. Friendship hadn't really been on the agenda – more of a footnote than anything else.

But, as she looked at him, she knew she didn't want Edward to be a footnote. She wanted him to be a main fucking character. So she smiled, a small, almost nothing sort of smile, and nodded. "Sure," she said, "let me know a day."

He chuckled lowly. "Well, coincidentally," he smirked, "Alice has forced the rest of my family to go shopping with her tonight."

Nora arched an eyebrow. "And you, _coincidentally_ , aren't going with them?"

He nodded. "So, would you care to watch these with me after school?"

Yes. No. Sort of?

"Alright," she agreed. "On two conditions."

"Yes?"

She pointed one finger at him. "First, don't ask questions throughout – I hate it when people do that."

Edward nodded with utter solemnity which, honestly, she was kind of grateful for. She really did hate it when people talked through TV shows or movies. Just _watch_ it and everything would be explained eventually!

"And," she continued, "You better give me them back when we're done, because they're actually Jon's and I may or may not have stolen them from his stash."

He blurted out one of his unexpected but nicer laughs, the ones he didn't mean to let slip, and Nora smiled. Her voice softened, "Thanks, Edward. I… I really am sorry for dismissing you like that. It wasn't fair and I guess I'm just starting to realise how selfish I can be sometimes," she laughed, but it was slightly bitter.

She felt uncomfortable with her words but was consoled by the fact that the corridor was empty. No way in Hell would she have said so much otherwise.

"My mother died long ago," he replied after a long pause of stillness, and she started at how sudden the words were. Unexpected, much? They seemed to come from nowhere but, one thing she'd learned about Edward was that he said things for a reason. Not in a calculating sense, more so as if he didn't like to waste words.

He continued, eyes far away, "and I barely remember her… but sometimes I feel the phantom sensation of fingers smoothing back my hair, and I think I'm a child again and I'll open my eyes and be warm, with her before me."

She moved closer to him, unconsciously. Wanted, randomly, to touch her warm hand to his cold one.

"But I never do. I open my eyes to this new existence. I am forever grateful to Carlisle yet… I hate myself for how bitter I am. How nostalgic. I understand that grief… grips you at the oddest, worst moments. It's not pleasant, but it _is_ entirely understandable."

Self-loathing grief wasn't exactly uncommon in her day-to-day but sometimes she forgot that Edward experienced it, too. God, how awful a friend _was_ she?

Nora swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. "I feel the same. With Jon…" she pursed her lips but felt his stare. She didn't blame him, she wasn't exactly a spill your guts out type of girl. Apparently the awkwardness had screwed up her usually tip top, locked up brain. "Well, sometimes I hate how little _I_ help _him_ , you know? He has to put up with so much of my crap and I just take it for granted."

Edward was still looking at her, pensive as always. "I don't think you see yourself very clearly, Nora," he murmured.

She raised her eyebrows, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. "What d'you mean?"

He didn't look as if he wanted to answer her question which only made her more curious. But eventually, he settled on, "You surprise me. Perhaps, if you looked at yourself properly, you'd be surprised, too."

"I surprise you?" She repeated, flatly, reasonably, _very_ , shocked.

He hummed and smiled at her, truly. "I think… it's the little things that are always so unexpected. Just your reactions to the world around you, I suppose, is an ongoing surprise. But you're certainly not selfish in the way you seem to think. You're human."

She didn't reply, couldn't. What do you say to _that_? Edward… she was glad he was her friend.

That's all she could think.

But, uncomfortable and vulnerable and feeling slightly naked under his open eyes, she shrugged it off, "You're not too bad yourself underneath all that hair gel. Now - _Game of Thrones_ marathon?"

He seemed to understand her abrupt change of subject. " _Game of Thrones_ marathon," he agreed, golden eyes twinkling.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok. This chapter is a bit all over the place but – before I get flames for it – I wanted to show that it's not gonna be an easy friendship. It's all about ups and downs and Nora is, as I've explicitly said, a flawed, human character. So you might think she's harsh but that's just who she is.**

 **Please don't hate her. Or the chapter. Or me. Ah, alright, here ya go.**

* * *

 **10**

 **Afterlife _,_** _ **Arcade Fire**_

* * *

The house. _The_ house; the one from her nightmare. She couldn't remember much of it – black eyes, terror, and adrenaline were all smudged and blurred – but Nora could recollect with vivid clarity the elegant, tall windows, the delicate yet steely structure. It was beautiful. Magnificent. An architecture's wet dream.

Yet all she could feel was a thrill of discomfort. The glaring reminder that Edward wasn't your average Joe. He wasn't even your average Edward – he was _something_. Something so obvious that it was bitterly awaiting her discovery on the tip of her tongue, she could practically taste the answer, this big reveal…

She didn't like not knowing. She didn't like feeling discomfort just because of some fancy building.

It was just a house. His home.

Nervously drumming her fingers on her crossed knee, she jumped out of the driver's seat.

A quick reminder of Edward's golden eyes and kind smile from earlier reassured her. He wasn't demonic and he wasn't luring her to her untimely death –

He was luring her to a semi-awkward marathon of gore, magic and a tonne of nudity… and why the hell did she agree to watch this with him again?

She snorted, rolling her eyes at herself. Behind her, Edward was slipping gracefully out of her car. He'd attempted – damn near ordered her – to drive them in her Volvo.

Needless to say, it hadn't gone over well with her. She may have overreacted a smidge.

"Come on," she had shouted in the school car park, "Jon actually let me drive to school this morning, so my baby is ready and raring to go!" She raised her hand for a hi-five. He stared at it blankly. Even when she wiggled her fingers.

"I can drive," he offered – or commanded, she couldn't really tell.

"I'm sure you can. But not today. I'll even drop you off here later to pick your Volvo up. Or we can drive separately, whichever."

She just grinned as he scowled down at her. Sometimes he was so broody, she wouldn't be surprised if he kept a diary that just had sad faces and black and white drawings of trees in it.

A-and then he said it.

"My Volvo is perfectly fine. I'd much prefer to drive us," he said with what he probably thought was an endearing smile. "It's the gentlemanly thing to do."

She laughed, slightly hard. For some reason, that condescending tone was not welcomed.

"You know, I'm not a meek little mouse for you to shelter."

Her tone broached caution.

"I'm not sheltering you; it's safer if I drive. I'm likely to be the better driver," he said and genuinely looked like he thought he was being kind. "I'm saying this as a conscientious friend."

It was probably the poorest choice of words since Bruce Wayne told the Joker to let Rachel go. It made her bristle. She took a step back, away from him.

"Dude, this is the twenty first century. Women are allowed to speak in public, take the pill and, oh yeah! Drive douchebags around for kicks," she raised her eyebrows pointedly. "Don't be that guy who moons everyone at feminist rallies. No one likes that guy. He's a dick."

"I'm not being sexist," he argued.

She hummed, "I'm not so sure. You're being a teeny bit controlling and insulting my driving."

"I apologise if you're offended but I don't see how honesty can be seen as controlling," he muttered, completely rigid.

She gaped at him, eye twitching before raising her hands in defeat, "Edward, _please_ , you might as well have 'I'm Christian Grey' written on your forehead in Sharpie right now! I might actually do that to you one day, just a head's up. I mean, c'mon, do you want me to repeat your own words back to you?"

"What?"

"I don't think you meant to but your words are offensive," she finished, setting her jaw. She hadn't meant for this to turn into her ranting about sexism. She just wanted to drive her own car. She guessed, to quote Ron Burgundy, it escalated quickly. It wasn't as if all of these peeves had been bubbling under the surface - Nora just wasn't the type of person to stand back and let someone walk all over her. She despised being a doormat or looked at as a fragile, weak little girl.

She rubbed her head, all this emotional monologuing had given her a headache.

With a heavy sigh, she looked at him with what she hoped was a non-confrontational expression. "The point is that you can be polite or well-mannered, that's gravy, but in my book, chivalry _is_ dead. Let me dance on its grave. Better yet, let me drive over it."

He didn't reply immediately, just stared at the floor in thought. Abruptly she sat down next to him, on his car's bonnet, and frowned down at her hands. If she wrote down a list of traits that made up who Nora was, then one she knew would be at the top was 'bitch'.

She turned slightly, to face him, and muttered, "I'm sorry. That was harsh – "

He cut her off, "Nora, you don't have to apologise."

She looked up at him nervously and saw understanding in his eyes. Hurt, disbelief and offence there too, but mainly acceptance and understanding.

"Really?"

He nodded, chewing his lip in thought. His eyes were downcast. "Is that really how you see me? Patronising and domineering?"

Edward's voice was aiming for casual but came across as hurt, nonetheless. Maybe it was because, being his actual friend, she could read him better, or maybe he was too deep in thought to mask his true feelings as she'd noticed he often did.

She decided to lighten the atmosphere because he needed to see this as a learning curve, not a noose.

"Oh, don't do that face at me. You look like Grumpy Cat," she chuckled, placing a hand on his rock hard arm. She waited until his brooding, golden eyes met hers and continued, "Relax, okay? It's a flaw, we all have one. Mine is that I'm too closed off, bitter and sarcastic. All in all, it makes for a person too awesome for people to handle. It's a burden I have to bear. Like Superman must carry the burden of his otherworldly abilities."

He held up his hand, "Let me get this straight, in this scenario, I'm a sadomasochistic pervert but you get to be Superman?"

She nodded wisely. "Not just in this scenario, my friend. That's our normal dynamic, I'm afraid."

He remained silent for a minute until he started shaking. Oh shit. She couldn't take back all the anger she'd thrown at him – and _wouldn't_ ; she felt like he needed to hear it before she kicked him where it hurt – the dominating behaviour wasn't exactly something she enjoyed experiencing considering she'd spent most of her life learning to be independent, and not a damsel in distress figure. But maybe, she had been a bit too harsh. Too much all at once, like when you accidentally pour too much squash into water and it doesn't dilute properly.

No one likes that.

Cringing slightly, she turned to see that… he was laughing. Silent and body shaking laughter rippled off of Edward Cullen.

Thank Christ for that. She eventually chuckled too and then just waited out his laughter.

After a few more gasps, Edward eventually turned to her with affection in his gaze that made her squirm. "Not many people are _that_ honest with me. Not purposely, anyway. It's more refreshing than you realise. I'm not sure why, Nora, but even when everything you say should offend me, it just makes me appreciate you all the more. You're truly quite brilliant sometimes," he said, peering out in front of them, all pensieve like Dumbledore. Dumbledorian should become an adjective just to describe how wise someone could look while pensive.

His words warmed her. She'd never heard anyone say anything that genuinely nice or complimentary about her before; no one outside her family, anyway. So, she decided to do something a little vulnerable and definitely out of her comfort zone.

Slowly, like a scared rabbit, she placed her head on his cold as stone shoulder. He stiffened slightly before relaxing.

"All that affectionate crap, you know I feel the same way about you, right? Even with your BDSM fetish, you're still my friend," she mumbled, smiling as he chuckled.

"I know."

They sat there only for a few minutes but it was peaceful while it lasted. No one else was in the car park, the air was light and cold, making her nose burn red and her breath crystallise before her. When she was younger, her father always used to pretend to scold her for 'smoking one too many cigarettes' in this weather.

"This is weird, right?" She commented uncomfortably.

Edward didn't ask what she was referring to but she felt him chuckle. "Hm. I prefer the term different."

"Different," she repeated.

He smiled, she could hear it in his voice. "I promise to try and work on my condescending and dominating behaviour."

"Thanks. I promise to drive us to your house with awe-inspiring smoothness."

They both laughed for a second and silence settled again.

"Come on, we better go" she nudged him with her elbow. "I promise not to drive too fast for your delicate sensibilities."

At this, he loosened up and smirked at her, "I don't think you could handle my driving speed."

"Psh," she waved dismissively, "I've got mad skills. You don't even understand how mad my skills are. They belong in an insane asylum, I tell you."

Edward chuckled. "You realise, half the time you speak, your mouth is either blurting out a pop culture reference or being sarcastic?"

"Only half? Jesus, I'm getting lazy."

They untangled themselves, heading towards her car. Edward made a visible effort not to look disgusted at it. With a smirk and a tap of the bonnet, she opened the passenger door and gestured for him to get in.

"We'll start your twenty-first century lessons today," she grinned.

A laugh escaped Edward's mouth at her words. She frowned, amused at him, but he just shook his head and got in.

With a slam of the door, she jumped around and in the front seat quickly, chuckling lightly as Edward ever so gently perched in the passenger's.

"Was that so hard?" She cooed, turning on the radio and sighing happily as Jon's mixed CD started playing _The Black Keys_.

"What is this song?" Edward asked, leaning forward in apparent interest. "I quite like it."

"Didn't think it'd be your thing," she smirked, "but it's called 'Gold on the Ceiling'. Catchy, eh?"

And so, with Nora singing dreadfully along, overwhelming the sound of Edward's chuckles, they arrived at his house, with a few simple directions pointed out.

Absently, as Edward opened the front door, led her to the spacious, pristinely laid out living room, which Nora gave an appropriately awed gasp at, she slightly regretted her harshness. But then again, if she was going to be a friend, she was going to be an honest one – he would have to either call her out on her bluntness or accept it.

Jeez, she'd apparently turned into some hard-core independent woman in her free time.

Reappearing with a gigantic bag of Doritos – the spicy ones, her all-time favourite snack food – Edward quietly placed the disc into the complicated DVD player and sat, slightly stiffly, on the couch by her completely slouched body.

"Are you ready for this?" She asked seriously.

"I hope so," he replied, and then it began.

Nora loved the opening titles and may or may not have squealed a little.

Just a little.

They sat in a comfortable silence throughout the first episode, Nora scoffing the entire bowl of Doritos and barely recognising Edward's lack of appetite.

She had thought it would be weird, being in Edward's house, and she knew Jon was probably wondering who the hell her new 'pal' was considering her purposely vague text to him about being late for dinner, but it wasn't. It was just nice.

"I do not like Joffrey."

She nodded in agreement. "Nobody does."

Minutes later, "He _pushed_ him out of a _window_!"

"And he's also having sex with his twin sister, man. Prioritise your indignation."

Then, suddenly, with tired eyes, realising with shock that they'd watched not one episode, but _four_ – she'd been sitting, unmoving for four bloody hours, Jesus Christ her legs were numb – Nora turned with a slightly manic grin to her neutrally faced friend.

"Well?" she demanded as soon as the credits and awesome music played on screen.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It was quite good. Addictive, certainly."

"Quite? Quite?! There's no quite about it, dude," she remarked before pausing, eyes wide. "Oh God. Oh God, I said 'dude' _again_ , didn't I?"

"You did," he clarified with the weird lips twitch he usually did.

She put her head on the table and groaned, "I've become an American youth. This sucks."

"Should I take offence?"

"Probably," she huffed out a laugh and sat up again, stretching out her neck wildly. She'd probably end up giving herself whiplash but it was too comfortable. Sighing in satisfaction, she checked her phone to see two texts from her brother.

 _Ok. Have fun. But not too much, if you catch my drift. J._

 _Just kidding. Ish. J._

Snorting, she turned to her friend, "I better get going. Jon's probably freaking out just at the fact I've acquired a social life."

"Yes, I suspect my family will be returning shortly," he replied wryly, offering her a hand off the sofa. "Thank you for this," he said, as they left his house, hovering in the liminal space between the door and her car.

"It was fun," she admitted, hands in pockets to protect them from the cold. "It's surprisingly nice spending time with you outside of school, Eddie."

"I revel in any time spent with you, Nora," he murmured out of the blue, placing his hands in the pockets of his grey coat, mimicking her unintentionally.

Instead of answering, she smiled and did something she hadn't done to Edward before – the day seemed to be one for firsts of everything. Their first argument. Their first meeting outside of school. And now -

She hugged him. He stiffened at first like he had when she'd leaned her head on his shoulder. His temperature once again smacked her in the face and she thought of all the oddities surrounding Edward and his family.

And yet, as he relaxed, his arms curling around her to gently hug her back, she decided it wasn't her business.

Edward was her friend. He didn't have an obligation to tell her his family secrets and she knew that, no matter how curious, she wasn't in the right place to know anything as serious or life-changing as she got the impression this was.

She just wanted to be his friend.

He sighed and said, "Thank you."

Despite the words being aimed at the embrace, they were filled with so much gratitude that it almost sounded as if he'd known she'd reached her decision to let it go.

"You're welcome," she whispered into his collarbone, smiling slightly.

This was her vulnerability. This was her trying to allow her emotions out.

It was peaceful. And he smelled quite nice.

They stood there, in Edward's driveway; two friends, hugging.


	11. Chapter 11

**I AM SORRY. It's been a ridiculously long wait for this chapter, I know, and I apologise. Things are going to start steadily unravelling from this point onwards – because let's face it, Nora, as nosy and curious as she is, would start figuring things out.**

 **So, Nora starts to piece things together, getting more suspicious, and the imminent arrival of Isabella who will be playing a reasonably large part in the story, will all contribute to the DRAMMMAAAAA. Wait and see, my pretties. I really hope you like this chapter, especially the ending, I've had it in my head since the beginning. Enjoy, review, you know the drill!**

 **Oh, and also, thanks, guys. Your reviews have been really helpful as well as generally making me feel like an awesome person, it really helps to know what you think of it as I write. I do take on board what you say and adjust the story accordingly if I agree, so don't hold back!**

* * *

 **11**

 **Heads Will Roll,** ** _Yeah Yeah Yeahs_**

* * *

"Wait," Lola held up a perfectly manicured hand, "you spent the night with Edward Hot-Ass Cullen and you didn't even kiss him? Should I be questioning your sanity?"

Nora and her new best bud were sitting in the most ridiculous room she had ever entered. It was pink. That was all Nora needed to say. The place looked like My Little Pony had puked its rainbow magical fun all over the place. According to the straight-faced Lola, her father still saw her as a six year old.

Nora had only just stopped laughing at the Barbie collection neatly arranged on a bright pink shelf, and had subsequently, stupidly, informed Lola of her evening with Edward. Which, of course, backfired _immensely_.

"What _I_ should be questioning," she mused aloud, "is why the hell I ever thought sleepovers _weren't_ going to give me an aneurism. Also, is that nickname going to be a thing now? Because I don't think I can say it without shuddering in pain."

"You're deflecting again," Lola sing-songed, gulping her shot of tequila like it was water. That was another thing Nora was questioning; her acceptance of all the alcohol the two had consumed for the past hour.

It wasn't that she really cared about the petty teenage rebellion – although she did find it funny watching Lola get so pissed right next to her Hello Kitty pillows. It was more that she didn't particularly like alcohol. Shocker, she knew. Nora Brennan, the stereotype for all rebellious hipsters everywhere, didn't like getting drunk.

But, she figured it was with good reason. Drunk mouths were loose, secret-telling mouths, and she didn't fancy spilling her guts right before she puked them out.

So, in her insanely intelligent way, she threw a pillow at Lola's face and laughed as she skilfully dodged but head butted the wall instead.

Conversation topic successfully changed? Check.

She didn't want to gossip about Edward like some kind of, well, normal teenager. Mainly because Nora still felt weird about her afternoon – _not_ evening – with Edward. He was so ridiculously mysterious that she felt like she might combust, but at the same time, she felt that strange warmth at the thought of him.

He was her friend, she thought, feeling tingly.

Oh god, she thought seconds later, what had she become? Swooning over friendships? She was supposed to be a hardened loner. That was her thing. She was the grungy, quippy, dark-past-that-she-doesn't-want-uncovered girl. She was Robert Downy Jr. in Iron Man only without the crazed genius or awesome super hero skills.

Then again, looking around the girly situation she was currently in, being RDJ was long over apparently.

"So, what now? You're not going to try and paint my nails are you?" Nora asked with a decent level of suspicion.

Lola snorted, slightly tipsy, and shook her head. "Painting nails is for wimps. How about we carry on drinking?"

She poured a large slosh of what seemed to be whiskey into their glasses, fumbling with the coke she had to stave off any horrid aftertastes and immediately gulping it down. Nora frowned. That was some serious mixing. Tequila shots followed by whiskey?

"Are you alright?" She asked. She knew Lola was a bit of a party girl – despite her appearance. But this was a bit much. She recognised sad-drinking easily. It reminded her of Jon back when they'd first… well. She could recognise it, anyway, and it worried her a little.

Lola was her friend. A bitch, yes. But still.

Sitting there on the garish bedcovers, she didn't look bitchy to Nora. Her pretty face was almost too blank. A mask.

There was a moment of silence that left Nora awkwardly chewing on her thumbnail. And suddenly, Lola asked with a forced casualness, "What did you think of my boyfriend when you met him?"

Well. That was an odd question.

Nora pursed her lips, "I thought he was one wrinkle on his forehead short of being a real life version of Mr Grumpy. Why?"

Lola didn't respond, her finger circling the rim of her glass.

Nora was many things, bad things that is, but she wasn't completely oblivious. Ish.

"Tell me what's bothering you," she demanded, bluntly. There was no point in beating around the bush.

The blonde sighed, looking aged for a moment. "I'm not with him because I like him," she admitted slowly, "I'm with him because… it's expected."

Nora narrowed her eyes. "Expected," she parroted.

Lola didn't even look at her. In fact, she stared at her hands which were quite obviously trembling.

"You can tell me," Nora said, leaning forward.

There was no response. Just silence.

And then she just blurted it out, looking so vulnerable and anguished that Nora could only stare in surprised sympathy.

"I'm gay."

Before another word was said, Lola Johnson promptly vomited all over the Hello Kitty pillow.

* * *

 _Malcolm, as usual, was sitting on one of the dingier sofas with a joint hanging from his lips. He grinned goofily when she made her way over._

 _"_ _How did it go with your parents?" She asked, giving him a quick hug and wrinkling her nose. He reeked of weed. The pungent smell of a walking-talking festival. Then again, the entire house did. Josh Thomas clearly hadn't expected all the drugs to appear at his party judging by the shrill shrieks he kept giving off every time he spotted another dazed pothead around the place._

 _He laughed humourlessly, pushing his blonde hair back into a strange, sweaty quiff. "How d'you think?"_

 _Nora sighed, "Well the pity party would suggest it went brilliantly, obviously," she snarked without any bite. Malcolm could tell, his glassy eyes twinkling with cold amusement._

 _"_ _They kicked me out," he admitted. "I expected nothing less. I'm moving in with Jones. Doubt it'll last though. He's not serious about our sordid love affair."_

 _Nora stared at her friend. What could she say? Nothing useful, surely. And so, she didn't._

 _"_ _Scoot over," she said with an added shove to his chest, "I'm tired of wandering around the place. Josh looks like he's seconds away from having a heart attack."_

 _Malcolm, although still maintaining traces of sadness in his face, snorted. "Of course he is. When isn't he?"_

 _She laughed without feeling._

"Is something bothering you?"

Nora winced, glancing at Edward beside her. She had assumed that they were under a mutual awareness that the hour was to be dedicated to serious brooding. Edward was a fine brooder, and Nora had hoped that he would continue to excel in the skill through English so she could think in peace.

Of course, Edward was also a pain in her arse on occasion as well, so she shouldn't have thought she could get away with silence.

She shrugged, trying to maintain a level of nonchalance. She doubted she succeeded – her casual shrugs always resembled the beginnings of a fit.

"Nothing," she lied, blasé. "No thoughts. No bother. I'm swell."

She tried not to cringe. Swell? Was she trying to emulate the fifties?

Edward gave her his classic 'I know you're talking crap because I'm superior in all ways' look. His face had perfected such a look and she groaned in response.

Edward just laughed. Screw him.

"As long as you're alright, Nora, I won't pry."

She gave him the eye, "Really?"

He nodded, innocence beaming from him. "Of course."

She hummed but turned away, lost in her thoughts. Lola had told her some pretty serious stuff on the 'sleepover of doom'. Nora swallowed. She felt awful, not realising that her friend would obviously have her own issues. Was she that self-absorbed that she didn't even think that Lola could have real problems?

The answer was pretty clear: Yes, yes she was.

It was just like with Malcolm. He was a complex friend from back home who had enough issues to pack into a large suitcase and sometimes, he seemed like he did drag them around with him. He had succumbed to a harsh love of drugs and alcohol even before that disastrous day.

She missed him, the old him. The last time she'd seen him – not long before her dad's death – he had been so gaunt and sickly looking. The drugs were slowly eroding him, it had seemed. And he no longer looked at her as a friend, but as an irritating figure representing his own shame.

Someone who could have helped him somehow, but hadn't known what to say.

She sighed, crumpling her notes. They were shoddy anyway.

Somehow, their friendship had delved deep enough that Lola had actually confided in her. Something she had told no one, and what did Nora do? Barely anything. Certainly not enough. She was the worst emotional speaker in the world. Possibly, in the galaxy.

"Nora."

She started, turning to Edward again with a frown, "What?"

His lips held a smile but his eyes were as intense and serious as ever. "Class is over," he commented lightly, "you missed the bell for lunch."

Sure enough, as Nora glanced around, the room was empty except for the impatient teacher tapping her feet at the front of the room. As Nora caught her eye, she gave an exasperated wave towards the door in an effort to make the two stragglers leave.

Packing up her stuff, she glanced at Edward, considering him. Could he help her?

Who was she kidding? The guy knew everything under the sun, it seemed.

"Pretty boy," she nudged his rock hard arm, "can I talk to you for a second? I promise it'll take five minutes tops. Don't want to keep you from the fine cuisine of the cafeteria."

He nodded, seeming to have expected it. "Sure."

They made their way out of class and hovered awkwardly in the empty hallway. Well, Nora hovered awkwardly, unsure how to go about what she was going to say. Edward just stood there looking like a damn runway model.

Screw it, just go all in Nora. Tell him your deep dark secrets.

She was a witch.

Inwardly, she laughed. That was complete bollocks but a damn sight easier to say than what she had to.

"I, uh, needed some… help," she began. "Advice."

Edward nodded for her to continue.

"Okay," she exhaled. Coughed. Fidgeted. Right. "Okay, so I had a friend," she said and then scratched her neck, "He was sort of a pretty serious drug addict… he was a good guy," she defended at Edward's disapproving eyes, "and he just needed someone to help him through his issues, you know? He was in love with this boy – a bit of a dick, really, but still – and his parents were _really_ conservative. They wouldn't accept it… and they were just generally not great at handling it. _All_ he needed was someone to help get him through all of it and it should have been me. But I… I screwed it up. When he told me, I said some stupid joke because I had no idea what to say to him. And then, he went off the deep end with all the drugs and ruined his entire life," she rushed out.

She didn't say it out loud, but added on, _and I'm afraid I'm doing the same thing all over again. Being a crappy human being and not helping when a friend needs me the most seems to be my forte._

Guilt oozed in her stomach, making her feel ill. It was one of her biggest regrets and she despised having to talk about it, feeling like every word lessened her in Edward's eyes.

But all he did was frown, concernedly, and gave her a sad, knowing look.

"Nora, you shouldn't blame yourself. I'm sure he could've gotten help from someone else. Someone professional. You can't shoulder that kind of guilt."

"Yes I can," she said, honestly, "because friends are supposed to help each other. And I didn't."

Malcolm had deserved her help, she thought absently. So did Lola. Minutes after vomiting the girl had passed out from all the alcohol, and then either pretended or genuinely didn't remember her admission.

And Nora hadn't addressed it yet.

"I think Malcolm could have gotten help from other people if he'd truly wanted it," Edward said. "Drug abuse isn't something a friend can control, Nora."

Nora nodded, distractedly. "I guess you're right but," she paused. Frowned.

She thought back over what Edward had said, rewinding their conversation.

 _I think Malcolm –_

It clicked.

Edward stilled, resembling a statue. A feral statue.

"How did you know his name?" She asked slowly. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

It was such an innocent question, yet, for once, in their entire time of knowing one another, Edward seemed to have no answer. He stared at her, and she could practically see the cogs whirling.

How did he know? She hadn't told him Malcolm's name. She knew she hadn't. She wouldn't because Nora disliked giving away her past as it was, especially such a big part of it, and that was the best she could do to hide some of it from him.

 _How did he know?_

Abruptly, Edward calmed and smiled at her. It was forced. "You told me his name," he chuckled.

Liar.

"No I didn't," she said, adamant. She knew she didn't.

What was he hiding?

Had he stalked her? How did he know, unless he read her mind which was –

It was as if pieces of a jigsaw started to fit together.

Stray thoughts, absent notices, past oddness, even when she'd first met him, day one…

 _'_ _I tend to speak my thoughts aloud.'_

 _'_ _I noticed.'_

She wanted to deny such an absurd theory. But so many times, she had thought it without really considering the idea too deeply.

 _…_ _He seemed understanding. Almost weirdly so, as if he'd just plucked the information from her mind._

He was so different. She'd known from the beginning. Something blindingly, obviously, glaringly different.

And, another memory slapped her across the face.

He had told her, hadn't he? Because he had known about her Mandarin classes. He couldn't have known but he just _did_.

 _'_ _How did you find out? I literally signed up yesterday. After school.'_

 _He considered her question before smirking; 'I read your mind.'_

She stared at the person before her, hard and unforgiving.

The question that sprung to mind was unexpected but also entirely obvious. It was the question she'd always had, lingering in her thoughts, in every conversation they had. She'd never brought it to the front of her mind.

Until now.

 _What are you?_

Edward stared back, his eyes burning with intensity. He was almost painfully still. And then, he simply fled.

Nora couldn't move. Her body felt frozen as she stared at his departing figure.

The question continued to replay, over and over again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for the response! Please review this. Nora's reaction fits with her character, it doesn't make it a nice reaction, just an honest one. And it's about time we start bringing the Cullen clan into the story more, don't you think? This is their perfect beginning. This is how I think it would go, realistically anyway.**

 **Hope you enjoy! Please review, it really helps. And the song I listened to while writing this is ridiculously upbeat considering the contents of this chapter, but I'm putting it down because it's a brilliant bloody song.**

* * *

 **12**

 **Telephone Line,** ** _Electric Light Orchestra_**

* * *

If Nora could describe her thoughts properly, in an appropriate manner, she would probably say they looked a little something like a gigantic question mark.

That is to say, she had no idea what she was thinking. She was currently experiencing a mental breakdown of epic proportions.

Primarily, she wanted to make sure she wasn't actually just an insane person for believing that her friend was a mind reader. A Legilimens, if you will.

As in, _he could read people's minds_.

Her mind. Her private mind. Her private mind with her private thoughts that had been invaded.

She felt really sick and quickly concluded that standing, clutching her stomach, trembling while staring at an empty hallway, motionless, was decidedly odd.

Her point was proven when surly as ever Mr Miller suddenly appeared beside her, looking disgruntled and annoyed.

"Why are you staring at the floor, Brennan?" He asked. He looked very harried, his shirt wrinkled, and she suspected it was due to the lack of a thermos in his hand. He was like her, a fellow coffee addict.

Nora wasn't sure what he was talking about for a moment, completely stunned as she was, but eventually, as he got more impatient looking, she realised he was questioning her gormless staring.

She swallowed, clenched her fists, and muttered, "Searching for nargles. Sorry to be a bother."

It seemed Harry Potter references were also overloading her mind. Goodie.

She didn't wait for a reply – again, that seemed to be the normal response lately – and trudged out of the door. She needed air.

And, she really needed her dad.

He would know what to do. He would probably go with the subtle approach: punch Edward, perhaps plot his murder for making her upset.

Nora felt the distinct sting of tears and agitatedly rubbed at her eyes. She had come to this little boring town in the hopes of dealing with her own demons, not with phenomena's like Edward. Why did this happen? He obviously kept to himself because of it, his lack of friends were a clear indication, so why did he come to her? Why did he ever befriend her? Was it a game? Did he find it funny that she tried so hard to hide her thoughts, oblivious to the fact he could read every single God damn one.

Her mind was supposed to be _private_. She was private. No one had the right to her thoughts. No one.

But it didn't matter, because he'd still read them, hadn't he? He had seen and heard or however it bloody worked… God, what had he heard?

What did he know?

The most painful and prominent emotion welling inside her was the overwhelming hurt. Because, first and foremost, Edward was supposed to be her friend.

Did this change things?

Yes, it did. For her, at least. It was too intimate. Too invading.

She felt really really sick.

In fact, she desperately needed to start breathing properly or she'd probably pass out from the complete lack of sense or understanding. She was pretty sure she would hyperventilate, so slowly, she inhaled and exhaled over and over again, focusing entirely on getting oxygen in and out of her lungs.

And still, the question remained: what was Edward Cullen? Nora wasn't stupid, she hoped anyway. She knew there was more to it. It wasn't just the… mind reading. She knew there was something else, and it was something that would probably terrify her, or at least, change her entire opinion on the boy.

Then again, she already saw him differently, considering her newest info on him. Beautiful, sure. Intelligent, definitely. Kind, reasonably. Up himself, incredibly. Mind reader, oh yeah, that too.

She felt moronic even thinking it.

Her mind was in turmoil, ironically, over this mind reading revelation.

The thing was though, she wasn't entirely able to focus on one thing. Did she focus on the fact that Edward was basically a real life Legilimens or on the blatant fact that he was also part of something bigger? Big enough that he'd looked frightened of her when she'd questioned him, mentally.

 _What are you?_

He'd fled at that. And she wondered for a moment where he had gone. To regroup maybe? To think up a better lie than just saying, 'you told me his name', with that patronising chuckle?

What was he?

It had hit a nerve. She could tell.

Her thoughts had hit a nerve. Jesus.

Once again, she was back at square one. That is, the fact that he could read her innermost thoughts. Nora was good at using defensive sarcasm, but what happened when someone could slip their way through those defences?

She felt vulnerable. Naked and afraid.

That was the worst discovery. She was _scared_ of him. Because of what he could do. It wasn't fair, she knew, to blame him for something he might not even have control over. But it was her mind. That wasn't his to explore whenever he felt like it.

Jesus, she sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. The brisk air brushed against her face, like a cleanse. The car park was quiet, except for the sudden clearing of a throat.

Somehow, she knew it would be one of them before she turned around. Like some weird survival instinct.

Sure enough, when she turned around she was faced with two of the Cullen's. Zombie Tinkerbell and the pained one, Jasper, who seemed to have upgraded from pained to incredibly angry and glaring at her as if she were Hitler. They stared at her, unblinking, and she stared back.

"Edward's gone home for the day," supplied the short, caffeinated girl.

Still slightly stunned from the day's revelations, Nora merely raised an eyebrow. "You're not mind readers too, are you?" She asked, tired of life.

Alice shook her head. Her beautiful, elfin face was incredibly sad. But the puppy eyes didn't have any effect on Nora. She wondered if she was going into shock.

Probably, because she'd barely blinked at the confirmation of her theory. So Edward could read minds. She wasn't a lunatic. No, she just befriended a fucking mind reader. As you do.

"I can see the future," offered Alice, nonchalantly, ignoring the disbelieving glare she gained from her boyfriend. He clearly didn't want to give away more secrets than Nora already knew. "But unlike my control over my ability, Edward can't help it."

She sounded weirdly sympathetic. Nora assumed it was because she, too, disliked having her mind read. It was horrid.

Which was why Nora responded, "I don't think that changes my mind."

She decided to ignore the whole 'this chick can see the future' for the future. Ha, she'd made a pun. No, Nora. Don't start on the jokes. She needed to focus on one massive discovery at a time or else she'd implode.

Alice nodded. Figures that she'd understand that vague statement. She looked a strange mixture of guilty, miserable and understanding. Perhaps she was, perhaps she could see it from Nora's perspective. Who knew what they could do at this point?

They could probably fly and shoot lasers from their matching golden eyes.

"He's devastated," murmured the angrier fellow. His voice was low and strained and he terrified Nora. But she also couldn't bring herself to muster up a proper reaction.

"He can read my mind," she threw back at him, pointlessly. But it was the reason. The reason she couldn't even think of being near Edward Cullen.

Jasper growled at her. Actually growled. It was a growl of frustration and… something else. Something animalistic. She peered at him, ignoring his glare, the obvious anger, and just looked at the unnaturalness that oozed from him, just like it did his brother.

"You know we're different," replied Alice, solemnly. Nora looked at her and nodded. There was no point in hiding it. Different was an understatement. "Edward's known for a while that you've had your suspicions."

Nora couldn't help but wonder why she was saying this. Why they were even bothering to talk to her. "Are you going to clue me in or continue with the mysterious crap?"

"Would it make a difference?"

She thought about it properly. She already knew her answer. "No," she said honestly, "this is…"

"Too much," supplied Jasper, irritated. His entire body was stiffened and Nora flashed back to her dream; coiled, ready for attack. _To_ attack, that is. "You shouldn't know _anything_. It's not your place to know."

"Jasper," said a sharp yet jovial voice. Interesting. Another Cullen. The massive one. And his blonde, Barbie girlfriend.

Great.

Nora felt extremely uncomfortable and overwhelmingly surrounded. The big guy, she forgot his name, seemed like Alice, to be more sad than anything else. But Blondie, like Jasper, was practically screaming 'I want to break your face'. Nice way of meeting those two officially, she thought, with a mental laugh.

Jasper was looking perplexedly at her. "You're too much," he muttered. It definitely wasn't a compliment.

She raised both brows, "How so?"

She chose to ignore the seething blonde and the massive dude for the time being. She was following the mantra that ignorance is bliss to the tee.

He didn't respond. Apparently, he didn't need to, because the pixie filled her in, seeming comfortable to just blurt out everything. "Jasper can feel your emotions."

Jasper looked murderous. Nora just felt ridiculous.

"No offense, Tink, uh, Alice," she murmured, holding up a hand, "but could you stop filling me in on all the crazy. It's hurting my brain."

Oddly, the big guy laughed. He seemed friendly despite his massive size, but she barely smiled at him. If anything, it was more of a grimace.

She glanced back at Jasper who was appropriately angry. Could he do any expression beyond pain or anger? Probably not. It was like emotional botox.

"Must be a nightmare," she said absently. "Being around me."

"Yes it is," hissed the blonde supermodel chick. Oh. Burn.

Nora had obviously been alluding to her emotional whirlwind. The grief, the betrayal, the curiosity, the hurt, the terror, the humour. They must be sending him round the bend.

If his look was anything to go by, he agreed with her.

"Sorry," she apologised hollowly, "it's because of, you know, the dead dad situation. Makes my emotions trippy at best. Grief's a bitch like that."

It was bitter and angry and she'd meant it. Because she'd given up on giving a crap about what these people thought of her. She was tired.

The Cullen's did look vaguely pitiful and guilty at her reaction, except for Alice, who was almost crying from how sad she looked.

The pixie continued to speak, "I'm telling you this so you can understand. You're Edward's friend," she emphasised, with wider than usual eyes. "He needs you."

"No he doesn't," Nora refuted. Because he didn't. She was a grieving teenager with a sarcasm addiction. Edward did not need her, at all. What could she possibly do for him that was beneficial? "Anyway," she shook her head, shouldering her satchel and clutching it tightly, determined to just leave, "you obviously know I'm not going to go blabbering your dirty laundry to the town. It's not exactly my style. Your secret is safe with me, if nothing else than because you're all ridiculously terrifying. Kudos on your ability to scare me shitless. But I can't be," she swallowed, blinking quickly. Don't cry, Brennan. Keep it together. Jasper winced. Figures. "Edward can't be my friend right now. I need to just be on my own. Okay? Please?"

She stared at Alice, ignoring the rest, because her conversation was primarily with her.

The pixie sighed, but nodded. Jasper looked thoughtful, Blondie looked constipated in anger, and the big guy just looked at her as if she were a slightly broken toy.

He'd be right. She sighed, shook her head one last time, and walked away from the strange circle. She definitely couldn't do this right now.

Her lunch wasn't over and, without really thinking, Nora ended up in the library and seating herself opposite Lola. The girl looked a little afraid of her. Oh yeah, Lola had told her she was gay over the weekend, hadn't she?

It felt like years ago, now.

Nora looked at her.

And burst into tears.

That was embarrassing. She sobbed openly, like a complete tool, and felt Lola's awkward, confused and worried embrace around her. It was almost funny how uncomfortable the girl looked at hugging.

Nora was not a pretty crier, it was all snot and bloodshot eyes and whale sounds blurting out of her mouth.

But she couldn't help it. The revelations of earlier, the end of her friendship by her own hand, the thought that she really needed her dad to be there and he wasn't and wouldn't ever be. It was too much.

Her only friend was now the second person, the other would remain nameless, to witness Nora's breakdowns that always seemed to take place in school.

She was doing a great job at seeming put together. She was definitely getting this grieving thing sorted out, obviously. Maybe she should just give up on school altogether. It seemed pretty pointless in the grand scheme of psychics and mind readers and whatever the fuck she should label Jasper's ability. Emotion-ers?

"What is it?" Lola seemed to be asking her, muffled by the horrid crying.

Nora continued to cry. "Edward," she managed to get out, "I can't be friends with him anymore."

"What? Why? You two were creepily close, it was irritating to witness," Lola said, shocked.

Nora didn't answer her. How could she? She couldn't say it was because Edward's ability made her hackles raise, that she couldn't be around him knowing he could hear every little part of her personality, every thought, every opinion, every _memory_. Not now, not when she could barely figure her way through grief and school. It was too hard.

She felt like a child. Like an idiot. And like she should stop sounding like a whale when she cried.

But she also felt like she really needed a friend. It was selfish, but Nora was a selfish person.

Amongst the horrible sobbing, she also squeaked out, "I don't care that you're gay", because she knew that was why Lola had pretended to forget about her admission the other night. She wasn't embarrassed. She was terrified of rejection.

The arms around her stiffened and slowly relaxed.

"I don't fancy _you_ , don't get too full of yourself," was muttered, slightly choked, into her shoulder.

Slowly, Nora began to shake, and realised that she was laughing.

Lola Johnson was quite possibly a godsend.


	13. Chapter 13

**So, I'm glad you guys liked my newest development. And I especially enjoyed seeing how many people thought Edward was a little bitch, it made me laugh. I just think that would be his honest-to-God reaction, because when Bella started getting to curious, he downright ignored the girl for like a month. So, in reverse, Nora's only discovered his gift. She does not know he is a vampire, I hope that was obvious. She's obviously aware there's something more to him, but she doesn't really want to. And I got an inbox wondering why she wasn't prying and my answer's simple: she doesn't want to know. Nora is an ordinary girl trying to deal with her father's death, and she doesn't want to have all of these mind-blowing discoveries thrown at her. She wants to try and be normal again, and Edward isn't that.**

 **More importantly, she's avoiding Edward specifically because of his gift. He can read her mind – her, the girl who's all for deflecting from serious situations and feels uncomfortable sharing information about herself. So obviously she's freaked and slightly betrayed because it seems to her like Edward's got a cheat sheet.**

 **I hope you guys understand that. Now, this is set at Christmas – bit random, I realise – for two reasons: 1, because Bella supposedly turns up in January so my plot is slowly entering into Twilight, and 2, because I think that a family holiday like Christmas would be a massive deal to two recently orphaned siblings, don't you think?**

 **Please enjoy my latest chapter. I know you might hate the lack of Edward, but it has to happen. I told you all there'd be downfalls in their relationship and this is one of many things Nora has to come to terms with in order to fully trust and understand him.**

 **Enjoy! Review! Name a child after me!**

* * *

 **13**

 **Sunny Afternoon,** ** _The Kinks_**

* * *

'Twas the week before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Well, except the incredibly loud banging sound in the kitchen.

The day marked a week until Christmas day, and both Nora and Jon were feeling put out. For obvious reasons; first and foremost, because their father wouldn't be there for it. She remembered past Christmases. They'd never fussed over it – they'd decorate the tree to look like someone had vomited tinsel and fairy lights all over it, shout and swear at Christmas carollers who attempted to sing for them, and generally have a brilliant time doing sod all.

She knew Jon was feeling particularly miserable because he'd not been able to spend his last

Christmas with his father. He'd been busy with friends.

Busy living. How things had changed.

So far, the siblings had tiptoed around the subject because neither wanted to be the one to approach it. It was too raw.

But, apparently Jon had had enough and had decided to embrace all that disgustingly chipper Christmas spirit instead.

Hence the loud banging as he abruptly slammed a massive frozen chicken onto the table, startling Nora enough that the sounds from her mouth were more of a canine yelping than human.

"Why have we got a giant, mutant chicken on the table?" Nora asked curiously.

She wasn't exaggerating. It was huge. She considered the idea that Jon had actually created a new breed of super chickens that had subsequently been shot, plucked and packaged, before being plonked before her.

Hands placed on his hips, Jon grinned, evidently proud of himself.

"Well, I'm obviously going to cook it for Christmas."

She stared at her brother. "A _chicken_? What happened to turkey?"

He simply waved a carefree hand as if batting such ludicrous ideas away from him.

"Don't be ridiculous, turkeys for losers, this is much nicer," he responded airily, now attempting to shove the bird into their crappy freezer. It was an amusing sight, made more so by Jon managing to slip on thin air and head-butt the chicken. "Ow."

"Need a hand down there?"

"Possibly."

With a decent amount of manoeuvring, they forced the chicken into the freezer. If the door was slightly bent from their exertions, they paid it no mind.

Jon sat down, out of breath, and practically hacked out a lung. She winced at the wheezing cough her brother had, slightly concerned. He'd been given time off because of how bad it was, and despite repeated assurances that it was probably remnants of a cold, it still hadn't gone. It was so wheezy, she was surprised he wasn't in pain or something.

But he ignored her worried eyes, instead complaining loudly and constantly until Nora sacrificed the last chocolate biscuit to him, and together they sat drinking tea – or in Nora's case, consuming far too much coffee.

Tapping out a new beat he'd considered for a song he'd written, Jon turned to her with a smile. "Oi, you know that guy we met in the woods? Chief Swan?"

"The guy who thinks we're pagans?"

"That's the one," he nodded, grinning all the while, "anyway, apparently his long lost daughter's coming back next term," he waggled his eyebrows, "A newbie to overshadow your newbie status."

Nora laughed and raised her hand for a hi-five. She ignored the fact that her palm was tapped with a spatula instead of a hand. "Thank _God_. I hate being the bloody new girl. I'm pretty sure everyone else does too. Other than the majorly awkward crying, I've not done anything interesting to keep them entertained."

A slight lie but she wasn't going to tell Jon that. She was trying to behave normally. Normal. Normal Nora.

"Haven't stolen any cars?"

"Nope."

"Haven't shagged a teacher?"

"Uh, no?"

"Haven't successfully created a virus that'll wipe out mankind as we know it?"

She shook her head. "Unfortunately not."

Jon let out a gusty sigh. "Well, I can see why they hate you. You suck."

She glared at him.

"Apparently," Jon continued, in some weird mockery of the gossiping tones she'd heard old women use in The Cosy Club, "her name is Isabella Swan. She sounds like a fairy princess. And her mum got chased out of the town by a mob of angry housewives for having a teen pregnancy."

He looked at her for a reaction and she made an effort to widen her eyes, whispering, "Scandalous."

"Indeed. Hopefully she brings some glitz and glam to the town," he mused, "or at least has the decency to get pregnant. That way, she can create another mob of psychos like her mum did for our immoral amusement. It can get so dull here, you know."

Nora just snorted, staring into the dredges of coffee lingering at the bottom of her mug. She felt a little less awful knowing that someone new would be coming. Because for the past two weeks, Nora _had_ been the centre of all the school's attention, despite what her brother was being led to believe. Well, not just her. Edward, too.

Somehow, the school's population had figured out that their friendship – something that been alien and awe-inspiring to begin with – was over. Dead and gone. Dust.

She sighed, sipping the last of her coffee and trying not to think of it, as she had been every day since she'd self-combusted in an overload of emotions and general confusion at the world in the library. Lola had silently agreed to ignore her outburst, in favour of the pair of them somehow becoming closer friends than either of them ever thought they would be.

Nora was putting all her energy into ignoring thoughts of the Cullen's, and instead, was trying and failing to persuade her only friend to dump her boyfriend. Lola wasn't happy with her. Possibly due to Nora's continued insistence that using a popular boy to distract anyone from noticing that she didn't swing that way, was not okay.

So far, Nora had been doing well in terms of determinedly _not_ thinking of the bronze haired guy who will remain nameless. The day after her crying bomb hadn't been pretty. Luckily, it'd been a weekend and so, she only had to fake her way through work, but Nora remembered what she'd been like.

She had looked like a zombie. Or a coffee addict, which she sort of was, so she clearly needed a better example. The point was, Nora Brennan had looked awful. Her red hair was greasy and stringy, her eyes were weighed down with purple, ghoulish bags and her pallor was sickly. Even her ever oblivious brother had given her a concerned look but she'd easily mastered the brush off.

She'd spent ages that first night, pouring through the internet, hoping that maybe reading minds was actually just a new fad she hadn't heard of. The same for the emotional rollercoaster guy and psychic Tinkerbell. But other than a couple of crazy people, she'd seen nothing to help her understand why they had these gifts.

Were they X-Men? Wizards? Aliens from outer space?

It was strange how blasé she had become over their gifts but, then again, it wasn't the strangeness of Edward's powers that bothered her in the first place; it was that he could see and hear things she didn't want him to see or hear, at all.

She remembered looking in the mirror the following morning, after having stayed awake until at least four AM, and cringing at the sight of herself. It was like being back at square one. She had gone right back to the good old days of looking like the very death she was attempting to grieve.

Only this was different. Because she had one more thing to add to her ever growing pile of reasons to just pack up her life and hide away in her bedroom, living on chalk and cigarettes like all madmen do.

But she'd sucked it up, gotten over herself, and decided that if she was going to stop being friends with someone, then she couldn't start emulating a homeless person as well. She needed to be strong and independent, which she knew she was, and that meant being happy and not shutting people out. So after the first day of self-absorbed sadness, she had begun the two weeks of Operation Evade Edward. She'd been pretty successful, considering he'd been, "off with the flu", for those two weeks. She knew he'd been informed of her decision to unfriend him like the child she was. And if she were honest with herself, she figured Edward wanted to avoid her right back.

She wasn't supposed to know his secret after all. That much was obvious given the maintained glaring by Jasper and Blondie. The rest of the Cullen's ignored her, other than a few looks from Alice, and it suited her just fine.

She knew they were ignoring her, not only because of her decision, but because any closer, and Nora had a feeling she'd start figuring other things out she didn't want to know in the first place. Secrets and secrets and secrets galore.

So she was sticking to her decision, ignoring the disgustingly sickly feeling in her gut at thoughts of him.

But, even being reasonably okay, she still missed him. He had been her first real friend in Forks. The friend that was always there. Nora sincerely missed the ignorance, when she didn't know he could read her mind. It was easier. They'd spent near enough every day together for three months of school, and she'd told him personal parts of her past, and he'd reciprocated, and they'd become close...

But she wasn't the person who would moon and wallow over a boy, drowning herself in her own loneliness. There was more to her than one boy. She refused to ever become _that_ ridiculous. It was _her_ bloody decision in the first place.

So, she wouldn't. She'd try out the new happy thing her brother was all about. Maybe Christmas cheesiness was necessary for continued social survival.

She glanced up at her brother as he coughed wheezily again, waving away her concerns as usual.

She'd focus on Jon. Her brother. He needed her now.

And she'd continue to try and support Lola. Because, surprisingly, Lola mattered just as much to her as Edward had. Did. Whatever.

"We're okay," she said to Jon, randomly. It was their thing, she'd noticed. How often would they say it before it was truly, utterly genuine?

She wasn't sure. But, even if the awful, gut-wrenching pain of her father lingered as strongly as ever, she was still surviving.

Now it was time for the next step: living. She couldn't just survive for the sake of it.

She would be happy. And that was definitely her goal, from that moment on.

"Come on," she demanded of Jon who looked perplexed at her random moments of blurting something out loud.

"Where're we going, sister of mine?"

"We need a tree for the living room. Christmas without a tree isn't Christmas, it's just us looking weird, giving each other gag gifts we secretly hate," she said with a smile.

He smiled back, took her hand and his keys, and headed for the car.


	14. Chapter 14

**I have no idea why I'm updating so much all of a sudden, but please enjoy. I couldn't let her not see Edward forever. Duh, it's Edward/OC.**

 **Isabella shall soon come to Forks but that doesn't mean romance is on her horizon with any Cullen's – I hate love triangles. Seriously. Hate them. It's irritating.**

 **So, yeah. You know the drill, please review!**

* * *

 **14**

 **No Surprises,** ** _Radiohead_**

* * *

"Why did I agree to this again?" Lola moaned, giving a sincerely terrifying glare to Nora who responded by smiling cheekily.

They were currently attempting a hike. An actual _hike_. Nora didn't know why she thought hikes were fun, but as it turned out, listening to Lola curse over her muddied new boots was entertainment enough.

The weather, for once, wasn't horrific or suggestive of an imminent doomsday scenario, so she was taking advantage and dragging her friend out of their tiny town for a pre-Christmas, we-need-to-lose-all-the-chicken-weight-even-before-we-get-it walk, as Jon had immediately entitled it. Nora had commented that it wasn't particularly catchy, as titles for walks went. Still down with the ongoing cough, he hadn't looked particularly impressed with her comment.

"It's good for us," Nora replied, continuing to pant her way through the walk. Man, walks were tiring. "Should've probably worn hiking boots, mind you."

"Should've gone to Mike's shop," said Lola.

Nora frowned, "Who?"

"Mike."

"Mike…?"

Lola gave her a deadpan stare. "Mike Newton. He's in, like, all your classes."

"The golden retriever guy?" Nora guessed, remembering her first day. The blonde boy who was so enthusiastic it made her want to shield herself from his eagerness.

"Don't be rude," said Lola, of all people, "he's a nice guy."

Nora shrugged, "Don't really know him."

She laughed, "You wouldn't. You're literally only friends with me. Talk about elitist."

Nora winced at that. She knew it wasn't meant to be harsh but it reminded her of a certain boy she was trying desperately not to think about. Lola must have noticed because she offered a sheepish smile in apology.

"Sorry, forgot for a sec."

Nora just laughed it off, "No need to be sappy on me, Johnson. Next you'll be braiding my hair. Now come _on_."

Despite the air being brisk, Nora couldn't help but admire the view. The luscious thickets of tall, towering trees, the smell of moss and just clean fresh air, and the shyly peeking sunlight filtering in through the foliage, was spectacular.

She could understand why people chose to live in Forks, with this kind of back garden, she could hardly blame them. It was a National Park gem.

They continued walking, hiking and generally complaining, all the way to what seemed to be a beautiful coastline.

"You guys have a fucking beach? Why didn't anyone tell me that?" She asked, smiling broadly at the sight laid out before her.

It wasn't one of those horrid beaches, where it was too warm and humid to enjoy the scenery. It was freezing cold, but the little sun they had was enveloping the grey, tumultuous waves in its light. The sand was almost white, scattered rocks lay here and there all over the place, and the entire place looked untouched by man. It was natural and real and how had Nora not noticed a giant beach placed right next to the forest?

"We must've walked into La Push," Lola replied, astounded by how far they'd travelled. She wiped some sweat from her forehead, marching forward to stand beside her friend. "It's part of the reservation. It's pretty far out so people don't go too often. That's probably why you've never heard of it."

"It's beautiful," Nora said honestly.

Lola glanced at her friend. It wasn't the first time she'd been surprised by the ginger, who sometimes seemed so jokey and uncaring that these moments, where she was sincere, were memorable. She was secretly glad she'd befriended Nora Brennan. She might have awful style, she thought, eyeing up her ugly _Kasabian_ t-shirt and dirty jeans, but she was a good person. Unlike most people in Forks, she was genuine.

"It is," she settled on as a reply.

The beach was gorgeous. Pristinely cluttered and roughened around the edges. Somehow, the chaos of it all was perfect.

Nora stared out, silently. It reminded her of her last home. Her little cottage in Wales, tucked away beside a beach so similar to this one that it was as if she were transported back there.

She missed her previous home. It wasn't the first time she'd thought it but now, staring out on all the raw beauty laid out before her, she was reminded of her father and their time together there.

He would love this.

But if he were alive, she wouldn't be here to see it. She would be with him.

With a sniff, she headed forwards. "You coming? I want to bury you in the sand."

"What?"

"I said I want to walk on the sand! Honestly, get a hearing aid or something," she laughed, listening to the calming crash of the ocean's waves.

The beach seemed deserted, but on a second glance she noticed in the distance, a group of boys and girls were frolicking like headless chickens near the water's edge. As was always the case, the boys threw water at the girls, who accordingly, screamed theirs throats hoarse.

Ah, youths.

Lola appeared beside her, her usually blank face seeming appropriately awed by how majestic it all was. "I should come here more often," she commented, probably not meaning for Nora to hear.

In synch, because they were just that awesome, the pair sat down with a loud squelch.

Nora laughed. Lola groaned.

"We sat in the wet sand," Nora said proudly, chuckles reverberating from her.

"Yeah," Lola said grumpily, "you don't have to sound so freaking happy about it."

Nora ignored her, intent on pulling off her black boots and socks and allowing her toes some freedom to curl into the grains of sand. It felt gloriously liberating and also freezing cold, but she didn't care.

"Looking forward to Christmas?" She asked her blonde friend, who was sitting so rigidly she looked pained. Clearly, sand messing up her clothes hadn't agreed with her. "Only three days to go."

Lola just shrugged dismissively, "It's alright, I suppose. Dad's working but Mum hired someone to cook us dinner. Should be fun."

Once again, she was reminded of how different her friend's upbringing was. Lola wasn't exactly wealthy, but Nora had figured out that she was fairly well off. It was why she admired the fact that the girl worked hard at her job despite not needing it.

Her parents were another story. One was a business man who did whatever it was businessmen were meant to do, entirely motivated by his job and his job alone, with no time for Lola, who he pictured as the All-American dumb blonde stereotype she wasn't. While, as Nora had learned upon entering the Johnson household, Lola's mother was a neat freak, typical housewife. All about looks and gossip and apparently not much else.

It was horrible. Despite her own past, Nora knew she would hate to have grown up in Lola's lifestyle. It was caged and forbidding of any type of free thought.

No wonder Lola didn't want to come out of the closet. She was already practically locked in there by her parents.

"What're _you_ doing?" She asked her, looking out on the horizon like a One Tree Hill wannabe.

Nora shrugged. "Jon bought a chicken and we got a tree the other day, so I guess the whole nine yards, really."

"A chicken?"

"Don't ask."

Lola glanced at her shiftily. "You'll be okay though?"

They both left the conversation of her father unsaid. Lola knew, obviously, but it was something so tentative they tended to shimmy around it.

So, in keeping with the rule, Nora just nodded with an attempted smile.

She'd try to be.

In a blatant change of subject, which Nora was eternally grateful for, Lola said, "I should meet your brother at some point."

"He's just like me, but male," she replied.

Lola laughed. It was odd, like watching a baby break dance or something. "Great, another idiot," she rolled her eyes, "still. I'd like to. He's more like an imaginary friend at this point."

"Oh he's real. He bruised my elbow yesterday by accidentally hitting me with the car."

"Are you saying he ran you over?" Lola looked appropriately incredulous but Nora just laughed.

"Nah. He was waiting outside in the car for me and I ran to jump in, slipped and fell onto the bonnet. It wasn't pretty. If anything, _I_ hit _him_."

"Hit and run."

"Pretty much."

The pair quieted down for a bit, not really feeling the need to talk unless it was about something interesting. It was the reason Nora, the 'elitist', was friends with Lola. She didn't just blabber on. She was comfortable with silences and could admit that not everything she thought was interesting enough to say.

She was honest with herself.

Nora spent her time pondering over the upcoming event of Christmas. She knew already that it would be solemn, but she wanted to make Jon happy, and that meant acting happy for him.

"Who's that?" Was suddenly sighed, dreamily, from beside her.

Nora looked at Lola, slightly disturbed. The girl was practically drooling. She followed her eye line and found a tall, slender girl with choppy black hair, tanned skin and what seemed to be a permanent frowny face. She was looking uncomfortable, sitting slightly off to the side of the large group of teens.

Huh. Interesting, she thought, mentally tapping her fingers together like Mr Burns.

"Not sure," she replied, "wanna go say hi?"

Lola immediately snapped out of it, and stood up. "No," she responded, gruffly, "we should get going."

"But – "

"Come on," Lola demanded, "Peter's coming over later to give me my present. I need to get home."

She studiously ignored Nora's disapproving stare.

They walked home in silence, but departed amicably enough, each acknowledging that they hadn't got each other presents, and neither particularly caring about that fact.

With a slightly lighter feeling, Nora entered her house to find the kitchen and living room deserted. However, she could hear a faint sound echoing from the bathroom.

It was the sound of more coughing. Or wheezes, in this case.

Grumbling, she trudged towards the room and practically fell against the bathroom door from tiredness. The hike had seriously taken it out of her. Man, she was unfit.

"Oi! Wheezy! I'm back!" She yelled, jokingly, tapping on the door.

But Jon didn't answer. She straightened up, more alert, and knocked again.

"Jon?" She called, trying to keep any worry out of her voice.

But he didn't respond, continuing that horrible wheezing until she slammed her fist against the door repeatedly. "Open the door!"

Luckily, he was alright enough to unlock it, but still didn't say anything. She looked at him, standing in his plaid pyjamas. He didn't look like he had a cold at all.

Instead, he continued to cough and cough, until he slowly reddened to a painful rose colour.

"Jon? Jon! _Breathe, you idiot_ ," Nora shouted at him, patting his back hard. She had no idea what to do and her heart was pounding so hard she was pretty sure it would combust soon.

Not again. Not a-fucking-gain.

He continued to wheeze, looking at her with terrified eyes, and she mimicked breathing in and out slowly, but it didn't work. He continued to redden until without warning, he fell.

He had fainted from lack of oxygen, falling into her arms and the pair of them fell to the ground from his dead weight.

Nora shuddered hard, feeling tears fall down her face. Without thinking, she slapped herself. She needed to check his pulse. She needed to keep her brother alive.

With shaking hands, she held her hand to his neck, leaning down to listen.

One second.

Two.

Three.

He was breathing.

He was alive.

She sobbed out a breath and tried to focus. Closing her eyes tightly, she suddenly shot up and ran to the kitchen, grabbing the phone off the table. She needed to focus. Without a thought, she legged it back into the bathroom, kneeling beside his prone body.

Jon needed her to maintain concentration and get help. She ignored her tears and her trembling and everything, her eyes boring into Jon's slack face and listened to the dial tone.

He would be okay.

He had to be. He _had_ to.

They answered, spoke and waited.

"I n-need an ambulance, please. _Now_."

* * *

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting, knee shaking jerkily up and down, in this horrendously uncomfortable plastic chair. The hospital's waiting room loomed around her, mocking her and reminding her of why exactly she was there.

Jon hadn't had enough oxygen and had lost consciousness.

Her brother was in the hospital.

How did this happen so often and why did it always feel so painful?

She wiped her cheeks of any stray tears, sniffing sharply. She needed to try and remain calm.

"I can't do this," she whispered into her hands, hiding away from the brightly lit room. She fucking hated waiting rooms. " _Please_ not Jon, _please_ ," she mumbled to anyone who was listening in. She really couldn't do this. Not again. She couldn't survive Jon leaving her. She wouldn't.

And then, there he was. Not Jon, but her friend. Walking right up to her seated body and standing before her.

"Nora," Edward said, his voice pained. His entire expression was immaculately blank but she could see the tension tightening around his eyes and mouth. He was dressed nicely as usual but for some reason, his clothes were slightly wrinkled, as if he'd rushed to get dressed. Even his hair was badly windswept rather than awesomely, for once.

The waiting room was empty but for them and the steadily gawking receptionist.

She had no idea what to say. For possibly the first time ever, no sarcasm sprung to mind.

"Hey," she breathed. And almost slapped herself. Hey? Hey, Edward who I've oh-so-astutely ignored and avoided.

But then again, she barely cared at this point. Without really thinking about it, tears stung her eyes and she found herself toppling forward into his cold chest, startling the crap out of him, and hugging him tightly.

"Jon," she choked. She couldn't find the right words for the terror clogging her throat. _Jon_.

His arms, at first hesitant, instantly tightened around her, holding her to him.

"I know," he replied quietly. She knew he did. Duh, he could read her mind. "My father told me. At first I thought… well, Alice _saw_ you crying in the ambulance. I thought you," he cut off abruptly. Oh. That explained the rushed, haggard look he was currently attempting.

He nodded at her thoughts absently. Creepy.

Since finding out, she'd cared about that fact so much but… standing in the stupidly white, stupidly clean, stupidly bleach-smelling waiting room, she found she didn't care at all. She'd needed her friend and he'd come to her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured into his top, "for going all ninja and avoiding you. Again."

He chuckled, almost brokenly. He didn't stop hugging her though so she took it as a good sign. "It's okay. You're forgiven. Again."

She breathed in shakily, inhaling Edward's clean scent. It calmed her slightly.

"Miss B-Brennan?" Stuttered out a breathless, feminine voice. Nora pulled herself out of the hug and turned to face a dazed nurse, who's glazed over eyes were focused on Edward rather than her.

She didn't care. She needed to know if her brother was okay.

"Yes?" She asked. Or rather, demanded with a firmness that startled the woman out of her daydreams.

The nurse blushed right to her brown hairline, and shakily gestured to the door, "Your brother is fine. He's through there, in Room 14, waiting for you. Dr Cullen just finished talking to him."

Dr Cullen. Huh, Edward's dad. She brushed that thought aside for later contemplation, focusing on the most obvious fact.

Jon was okay. He was okay. Okayokayokay.

She started forward and hesitated, turning back to her sort of, she wasn't quite sure, friend.

"Can I talk to you when I'm done with," she tossed a thumb in the direction of the door.

Edward smiled quietly. She knew smiles didn't have sounds, but Nora could only describe that face as wearing a quiet smile. But it was genuine.

"Of course," he promised politely, "I'll wait here."

She smirked a little. "Waiting in the waiting room. Quite the rebel, you are."

The tightness in her chest lessened slightly at his laughter.

With a small smile plastered across her face, Nora headed out the door. She had no idea what her talk with Edward would result in. she wasn't even sure what she was going to say. But as she reached Room 14, she found her thoughts overtaken with worry again.

Her brother, paler and a little shell shocked, was sitting up in a bed, his hair all over the place, and his eyes locked on the man speaking to him. It must've been Edward's father.

His adopted father who had the same genetically unique golden eyes. Right. Secrets, she reminded herself, which were not hers to unravel.

The man was stunningly perfect, with carefully curled blonde hair, a gentle smile, and a tall, well-built figure. He was wearing his doctor's coat in the same manner Nora imagined male models wore Dolce and Gabbana.

As she walked in, the man, Carlisle, she remembered, looked up at her in surprise, and then obvious recognition.

For the time being, she ignored him, immediately rushing over and hugging the crap out of Jon. He hugged back just as tightly, and when she pulled away, she saw an apology in his eyes.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered.

"Always," he replied.

"This isn't the time for Snape jokes," she laughed, wetly.

He knew what she'd thought. What she'd been through for the past two hours. But, it wasn't his fault, she thought, staring back at him, kindly.

She turned to face Carlisle. He continued to look at her in curiosity, seeming surprised and pleased with whatever he had discovered from her appearance.

"So I've got asthma," Jon repeated, apparently for her benefit, also staring at the doctor.

"Yes," said Carlisle smoothly, turning politely back to her brother, "and you must make sure to keep this inhaler with you at all times, Mr Brennan."

Asthma. Jon had had an asthma attack. It made so much sense to Nora that she felt stupid for not seeing the signs. Wheezing, bad lungs, coughing, inability to breathe properly.

She relaxed as the knowledge told her Jon wasn't in danger. Asthma wasn't life threatening unless it went untreated and they were unlucky. She wouldn't take that chance.

"He will," Nora promised, glaring at her brother until he nodded.

"You must be Nora," Carlisle said, a smile lighting up his features. He seemed genuinely excited to meet her, which was odd as she assumed he'd heard a lot about her for the past two weeks. None of it good. That was why his pleasure dumbfounded her; shouldn't he be glaring at her like the rest of them did?

Then again, this man screamed pacifist. He was reminding her of a very pretty Gandhi for all his gentle voice and kind eyes. Did smooth and suave expressions run in their family too?

"Uh," Nora responded cleverly, "that would be me, yeah."

Carlisle chuckled, "Edward's told me a lot about you. He's quite taken with you, it seems. He doesn't have many friends outside the family."

She blushed, annoyed at her reaction, and Jon raised a very incredulous eyebrow. The little shit.

"Yeah, Eddie's a weirdo like that," she responded, "At first I thought he was just lost when he kept following me around school, but it turns out he genuinely wants to be my friend. God knows why."

She didn't address the current situation of their friendship, however.

The man again had that look of recognition at her snarkiness. She wondered what Edward had told him, what he'd expected of her, and whether she matched up to his expectations.

After a moment, he simply said, "I'm glad I met you. You're exactly as he described."

He seemed to mean this positively but Jon snorted, "You mean, the fact that her personality has an uncanny resemblance to a grumpy old man?"

The man laughed, "Indeed. Anyway, I hope you feel better and make sure to use the inhaler if you feel it's needed, Mr Brennan. I best be off," he winked at Nora, "wonderful to meet you both."

And then he left, suavely, like a swan or something else elegant.

They remained in silence for a moment.

"It was probably from all the chain smoking," Jon said suddenly, with narrowed, thoughtful eyes. She glanced at him and chuckled. It was watery but they both ignored that.

"Maybe. All that bloody rock and roll lifestyle, eh?" She agreed. Her heart wasn't really in it, but that didn't matter.

Jon was okay.

Jon was alive.

He hadn't left her behind.

"So," he said casually, turning to face her, "Edward, huh?"

Ah. Crap.


	15. Chapter 15

**We've reached over 100 followers! Thank you so much to all you guys who are sticking with this story – I really didn't think I'd get the response that I have. Your reviews have been amazing and helpful; I'm taking on board what you're saying and honestly, some of you have guessed a few hints of the future already. I'm trying to pace everything to be realistic which is why things, even now Nora knows about the supernatural gifts, are moving at what you might see as a snail's pace – please keep with it, everything is slowly coming together now, ready for the beginning of Twilight.**

 **I really hope you guys are okay with any alterations though because obviously my story has already changed the beginning of Isabella's.**

 **Thank you to my reviewers. I'm so glad you like all my OC's, even the ones who aren't as involved with the Cullen's. It makes me feel really proud to know that you enjoy reading them as much as you do Nora and Edward.**

 **And, I had one review from** ** _TheCatalystx_** **tell me that I could write a proper novel. Honestly, you have no idea how wonderful that is to hear. I'm actually in University, doing an English Literature course and all I want to do is write, so thank you so much for your encouragement, it really means a lot.**

 **Anyway, enough babbling, please enjoy my next chapter!**

* * *

 **15**

 **Head Over Heels,** ** _Tears For Fears_**

* * *

Nora left Jon to his room, promising to return in a bit when they could go home. He'd told her that Carlisle had also mentioned the possibility of slight memory issues due to the whole 'no oxygen going to the brain' predicament earlier that day. She had stared at him, horrified, until he explained that all it meant was him possibly forgetting a few words here and there, and that it wouldn't last forever.

This had been _after_ the most uncomfortable talk of her life. Nora had grown up with two male figures in her life so far – her brother and her father. Neither were amazingly eloquent with emotions or anything remotely girly, like crushes and makeup. Nora, luckily for both of them, wasn't particularly interested in discussing her sex life and so they'd never had to gruel their way through 'The Talk'. Her sexuality, she had realised in her earlier teens, was hers to consider and hers to indulge in. She felt no need to discuss it with her family. _Ever_.

For these reasons, Jon's attempt to do so in a hospital room hadn't been pretty. Her brother had eventually concluded the following:

Nora was a human, Nora had a sexuality like every other human, and her sexuality, so far, liked boys. That was acceptable.

Nora might feel the need to shag boys on their sofa. That was inacceptable.

It was unnecessary, she reminded herself, because Edward was only her friend. Jon was still disbelieving of this fact but it was all she could say in her defence: Nora and Edward were _just_ friends. Possibly not even that. Everything was up in the air, depending on the next uncomfortable talk she would have to go through.

With a sigh, she trudged back to the waiting room to see him sitting there, looking up at her. He looked expectant, tired and pained. It was horrible and made him, for the first time, seem slightly less than beautiful. And because Nora was weird, that actually made her admire him for a moment.

Edward was ridiculously good looking, she knew, as did everyone – particularly the slobbering nurses, it seemed. But his emotions… they made him look softer. More real. Not so unreachable.

Then, with an almighty widening of the eyes, she remembered that he could probably hear all of those lovely compliments.

Great.

"How is your brother?" He asked quietly, thankfully ignoring her humiliation.

She smiled, feeling that relief sprinkle over her again, "He's good. Has asthma apparently. We really should've seen it coming," she chuckled uncomfortably. They really _should_ have seen it coming.

Edward smiled politely, "I'm glad he's alright. Asthma is easily dealt with, luckily."

"Yeah," she said, bobbing her head in agreement.

It was awkward. Edward was wearing his polite mask and she was being too agreeable. That wasn't how they were. Not that they had a _thing_ but she'd gotten used to a certain level of sarcasm and wit in their conversations. Not this stilted one.

Unnecessarily, she cleared her throat, nudging her head in the direction of the exit and subsequent car park. "Can we…?" She gestured again.

He nodded in silence, standing gracefully and following her out the door like an obedient puppy. Once the doors opened, she was reminded of how freezing cold winter could be, with a rush of icy air journeying up and down her bones, making them ache.

There was no one in sight, but for a doctor on a smoking break, it seemed. But he was a fair distance away, happily listening to heavy metal judging by the tinny screeches she could hear echoing from his headphones.

No one would hear them. She turned, tilting her head to look up at Edward with new determination. It was getting late, and the sky was a blood red, slowly deepening to black, but she could still see every feature of his face. Sadness was etched across all of it.

"I'm not sure how to go about this," she admitted, shrugging feebly, "it's sort of a first for me. I'm slightly convinced I'm actually just going crazy or hallucinating."

"You aren't," he offered, with a small smile.

She just sighed. "I know. Which makes all this so much harder. 'Cos I have no idea how to talk to you anymore without constantly freaking out about what you may or may not hear."

He opened his mouth, "Nora – "

"Listen," she said, interrupting whatever he'd planned to say, "I know I might seem like I'm being a bit dramatic about all this. Or maybe I don't, I wouldn't know, this whole superpower thing is new to me. But… Edward, how am I supposed to trust you when you already know anything I would be attempting to trust you with in the first place? It's like a cheat sheet to all things Nora. I – I hate it."

He swallowed, "I understand."

But Nora just shook her head, frustrated. "No, I really don't think you do. It's… if it were reversed, and I was the super powered one, what would you do? Knowing I could see the deepest, most private parts of you. The parts you're ashamed of, or you love, or you just don't want to share. And the thing is," she laughed, sadly, "I still want to be your friend. Your one of the very _very_ few friends I actually have, and I like being around you and talking to you. But now," she trailed off, unsure how to explain herself. "How can I be around you when you can read my mind? Tell me a way, and I'll do it."

He looked miserable. "I don't know, Nora," he murmured, his eyes boring into hers, "but know that I would _never_ intentionally read your mind. I try to block people's thoughts, ignore them. It's not as concrete a method as I'd like but it's the best I can offer. I'm sorry," he added, meaningfully. "I understand why you don't want me to read your mind. I've known since the beginning that if you ever found out somehow, that this situation would occur. But I couldn't help myself. I was drawn to your friendship. You make me feel… lighter. Happy," he said, and she noted that he didn't say happ _ier_. "Unfortunately, in my arrogance, thinking you would never find out, I've hurt you even more."

"It's not your fault," she groaned, holding her hand to her head, "and that's what's making this harder. Because I _know_ it's not your fault, logically. It's not an issue. I don't even care that you didn't tell me because that would be hypocritical, wouldn't it? It's just – God, I'm a _private_ _person_ , Edward. Or at least, I dislike people delving too deeply. I'm defensive about it, I'm sure you've noticed. I'm not exactly subtle about that. How do I go from _that_ to being friends with the most intrusive person on the planet?"

They stood there, helpless, and Nora felt that strong need to maintain her friendship with Edward Cullen. But she didn't know how to overcome this block. It was always going to be there. She would always feel this way.

"You're certainly not the first to feel that way," he muttered. She wondered how many people actually knew about Edward's gift. No one majorly important, surely, or else he'd be being experimented on by NASA or something.

Well, maybe not NASA.

And his words made her see him a little more clearly.

"Must be lonely," she said softly. She could see it, all of a sudden, like a weight was dragging him down. Loneliness because of something he couldn't help.

He nodded, looking accepting of the fact. He shouldn't have to be. "It is. But I've managed to utilise my alone time well."

She couldn't help it. She smirked, and drawled, "Sure. Bet you love your 'alone time'."

He crinkled his nose at her, offering a deadpan stare.

Without thinking about it too much, she sat on the railing, a little off balanced, and ignored how freezing it was on her thighs. She wanted this to work.

And it would only work if she started acknowledging that yeah, Edward had secrets he couldn't tell her, and sure, he could… read her every thought, but he probably also had a personality and feelings, too. Probably, she laughed internally.

For all that she knew of his general character, she didn't know that much about his life. Oddly, considering what she was like, Nora had probably told him more about her own life than he had to her. Out loud, she meant. Christ knows what he actually knew altogether.

But she ignored that for a moment. It was difficult, horrendously so, but she really wanted to try.

"So, what _do_ you do in your alone time, Eddie?" She asked, lightly.

He knew what she was doing. He knew what she was like, but she ignored his knowing look. They were, for now, just attempting to go with the flow of friendship – despite how cheesy it sounded.

"I play the piano," he replied, coming to sit beside her. He looked ridiculous sitting on the railing, and she chuckled.

"You any good?"

"Reasonably."

"Like Beethoven reasonably or 'I managed to do Chopsticks' reasonably?"

He smirked at her, relaxing slightly, "Which do you think?"

She held up her hands in defeat. "Yeah, figures you'd be a sodding musical prodigy. Anyway, anything else? Tell me something interesting about you. Or I'll get bored and start shunning you again," she smiled to let him know she was kidding. Ish.

He understood and sat thoughtfully for a moment.

"One of my compositions is inspired by my journey through the Amazon rainforest," he said eventually. It was also said with such a massive amount of nonchalance that Nora knew this wasn't someone being overly modest. He genuinely saw it as no big deal.

She gaped at him. "Wait – so one, you are good enough to compose music. Holy hell, that's impressive. I can't even whistle well. And two – you went to the bloody _Amazon rainforest_?! What was it like?"

"Incredibly beautiful. Wild. It was like looking at nature's rebellion against man," he replied, smiling at her enthusiasm. He seemed just as passionate though. She could just tell. "A completely new world, almost."

"Did your whole family go? Like a holiday type thing?"

"No. Only myself and Carlisle. It was a long time ago," he mused, looking lost in the memory.

The smile on his face was one she wore thinking of her own dad, and all the time they'd spent together. It was hard not to be jealous of the love on Edward's face; he clearly had a wonderful respect for his adopted father. And he could develop it, spend more time with him, something Nora would never be able to do with her own.

She blinked hard, and then elbowed him, "Father-son bonding, eh? Cute."

He hummed in response.

They were silent, but it wasn't uncomfortable, almost expectant really. They both knew their conversation wasn't over.

"What's it like?" She asked, tapping her temple.

Edward glanced at her, slightly uncomfortable. "It's," he struggled for words, "difficult. It can be overwhelming in large crowds. But I've learnt to temper it, slightly. It almost sounds like humming," he described, and she leaned forward in interest, almost falling from the railing.

"Humming?"

"Mm. Everyone thinks differently, some mismatched, others more like they're commentating their life. But they each think in the same voice they speak, so it can be confusing sometimes. I have to make sure I don't respond to thoughts by accident."

Nora frowned, feeling guilty for focusing so much on her own issues with his gift. Clearly, the guy already had enough of his own. "I'm sorry," she apologised, without really explaining what she was sorry for. She had a lot of things to be sorry for, she supposed.

"You don't," he replied earnestly.

She was confused for a second before wincing; he'd read her thoughts. It was insane, but there was the proof again, waving in her face. It made her feel naked.

But, on top of those feelings, was the ache of loneliness. Edward wasn't the only one to feel it. Somehow, along their merry way, he'd become her confidant. Reluctantly, on her part, but the fact still stood.

She liked Lola a lot, and she respected the girl a decent bit, but she couldn't tell her everything. She couldn't unburden on her. Nora just wasn't made that way. Lola had figured out a lot of her issues just from observation and conversation, but she would never know Nora the way Edward already seemed to.

Her two friends. Man, she was popular. She supposed Mr Miller could count if he hadn't given her a scoff in their final session before school broke up, telling her to 'not forget everything he'd taught her or she'd have the translation book thrown at her head'. The guy was way too happy with violent threats. She loved it.

"I can't believe it's already Christmas," she sighed out of the blue. There it was again. Christmas.

Edward nodded in understanding but said nothing. She was grateful.

"I didn't get you a present," he said abruptly, looking ashamed.

Nora laughed, properly and fully, feeling lighter again. "That's alright, mate. I didn't get you one either. This Christmas isn't going to be normal anyway so I'd prefer not to do the whole gift giving thing. I've already had to think of one for Jon," she looked back through the doors as if he'd appear before her, "and that was hard enough."

He winced, "That was part of the reason I chose not to. I would love to buy you a gift. But I understand that this holiday isn't going to be particularly pleasant for you."

She glanced at him, and couldn't help smiling. He really did know her. And she knew it wasn't from the mind reading, either.

"I want to be your friend, pretty boy," she said glumly. She got off the railing, stretching her legs, ready to get Jon and leave this horrid building. "Just… give me some time to adjust, yeah?"

Edward smiled, looking much happier although still a little gloomy. But, he accepted her terms and headed back into the waiting room with her. The nurse chirpily informed her that Jon was just grabbing his coat, so Nora settled in to wait for him.

Her friend stood by her for a moment, and she bit her cheek, before standing and hugging him. She'd hugged him more than possibly anyone else, outside her family.

It was comfortable, a bit cold, and a little sad. A farewell hug, she surmised.

They pulled apart, and Nora offered a not-entirely-honest grin. "See you after Christmas, then?"

Edward nodded. "I look forward to it."

Always so formal, she laughed, offering a weird salute that made her look like a complete idiot, and watched him leave the building. She felt a lot less horrible than she had when she'd first walked in.

At the sound of footsteps, she looked up and was greeted by her wearied brother.

"Ready to go?" He asked, yawning slightly, inhaler and other pieces of paper being stuffed into his coat pocket.

She just nodded. "Yeah. But we're gonna have to book a taxi or something, unless you fancy joyriding in an ambulance."

Jon didn't respond beyond a tired laugh. She understood.

She was tired, too.


	16. Chapter 16

**This is going to be another sad one. It's set on Christmas day, so it's expected to be fairly miserable. Grief isn't something to be turned on and off at will, so even if you find their sadness to be dragged out in this fanfiction, I just know this is how I was, and it isn't ever easy to deal with, especially on family holidays like this.**

 **Please enjoy despite all the melancholy talk, it's full of sibling bonding, I swear!**

 **Also, in case I get any angry reviewers, Nora is seventeen, yeah, but in Britain, she would be legal to drink at eighteen, so when she drinks briefly in this chapter, keep that in mind – I'm from Wales, and most teens start drinking at around sixteen! Plus, grief alters judgement a fair bit.**

 **Thank you for all the reviews. You guys are seriously awesome. Your response is brilliant, as always, thank you.**

* * *

 **16**

 **Asleep,** ** _The Smiths_**

* * *

She woke to the familiar burning against her eyelids telling her to get up, it was time to be alive again. The window, still curtain-less, offered a drab, white sky. The entire view seemed dulled, and Nora wondered if she were projecting her own feelings on it.

She didn't move. She lay, staring at the ceiling; the bland, grey mottled ceiling. It held no interest for her but then again, neither did anything else. Not today.

This time last year, she had woken up to the smell of burning bacon and had rushed to the kitchen, finding her father, sans apron for once, wielding a spatula in the same way one would wield a sword, jabbing at the bacon and attempting to dodge as the meat fat spat up at him.

She'd laughed, used to it, and scared the crap out of him by bellowing, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

He'd responded with an eloquent, "Shit the bed!"

They barely celebrated it. Not traditionally, anyway; instead they thought of it as a family bonding day. It was nice. A bit clumsily organised, but fun.

She'd not ever considered it would be her last with him.

She remembered vividly, looking across the table at him, into his identical sea coloured eyes. It was one small insignificant moment in the whole day, but it stood out to her now, as the most important. Like a snapshot, she could picture his face.

His eyes were so like hers. Or rather, hers were so like what his used to be. A mixture of greens and blues swirling around the pupil, all fighting for dominance.

He had grinned, bacon hanging from the corner of his mouth, burnt to a crisp, and his eyes seemed fond, loving and amused, crinkling at the corners as his cheeks lifted, giving away his true age with the indents of crow's feet engraved there.

He had been happy, she knew. It was one thing she was always glad of. He hadn't lost his happiness with his wife's passing, he'd simply shifted all his love onto his kids. He had mourned her, never found another, but he'd been happy in the end.

How did he do it? She thought, lying aimlessly, still as a corpse. How did he make himself be happy that day even with his wife gone?

She couldn't find it within herself to do the same. But then again, she wasn't as strong-hearted as her father had been and never would be. He was a man who gave his everything to anything he did. Even his smiles were massive, beaming ones, as if he couldn't bring himself to offer anything less than pure, unadulterated happiness.

She remembered him whispering to her when she was only a little annoying bratty version of herself, his Irish accent somehow gentle as he said, "Nora Brennan. _You're_ my favourite, but don't tell Jon or he'll have a fit."

Jon had, as was planned, overheard and subsequently had said fit. His tantrum abruptly ended when his father grabbed him around the waist and spun in circles until Jon's glares transformed into giggles.

Sam Brennan was a good person. A good person who wasn't going to cook her bacon or grin goofily at her or swear harshly before quickly reminding her never to repeat his words or the government would be after him. Bit of an idiot, bit of a mad man, but a good person. He'd never done anything heroic, never saved a life or spoke out to large crowds, but his smile made her smile back. It always had.

She missed him. Especially now. Today. It snuck up on her, the grief, as it always had done. It was almost insidious, like a cancer, lingering behind only to return with a vengeance during remission.

But she needed to get up for Jon's sake. Her brother, despite his smiles and jokes, would be feeling the same. They would pretend their way through the day, pretending to be happy until they actually were.

They needed to enjoy Christmas without their father and that was impossible, so they'd fake their enjoyment instead.

She sighed heavily, rubbed her tired face, and staggered out of bed, grabbing one of her dad's favourite t-shirts and a pair of leggings. Then she headed for the bathroom.

On the way, she slammed a hand against Jon's door.

"Oi," she mustered the will to shout, "Wake up! It's bloody Christmas – no time for snoozing!"

She heard grumbling and groaning and left for the bathroom.

Jon called, "You are pure _evil_ , you know! Be thankful I don't make you eat coal like all those irritating kids have to!"

"They don't eat the coal, they get given it for a present, genius!"

He swore. She laughed.

Yeah. They'd act being happy until they were. She could do that for one day.

Later, freshly showered and stuffed from an over-abundance of Jon's syrup covered porridge, the pair were seated in their living room, listening quietly to one of their dad's old CDs. It was _The Smiths_ ; a band he'd denied liking, claiming they were whiny, but secretly sang along to when he had a bubble bath.

They were calming but mournful, and the mood of the music only heightened their pensive faces as they sat there. They didn't bother changing the CD. Only repeated it, over and over again, like a soft lullaby.

Eventually, when time easily ticked into the afternoon, Jon snapped out of it and offered her a sad smile.

"Want to do presents?" He offered, tiredly.

She just nodded. Quickly, she headed for their sparsely decorated tree and grabbed the pair of lonely presents tucked underneath it. Two presents for the two Brennan's left.

She grabbed her own, biting her cheek to bring her back to the present, out of the gloomy thoughts threatening to pull her under, and slumped back into her seat.

"Come on," she whined as Jon fooled around with their Christmas dinner in the kitchen for a second, doing a quick check everything was in order before heading back in to grab his own gift.

They sat back in their places, each with the other's gift, before quickly swapping them.

"Count of three?" Asked Nora.

Jon ignored her, already tearing his apart like a psychopathic Christmas elf.

She laughed but did the same. It was flat and thin – too thin to be a book – and she couldn't even rattle the thing to figure out what it was. She pulled the reindeer-coated wrapping paper, revealing two rectangular pieces of card with writing on it.

She squinted.

And then gasped with glee.

"You got me tickets to _The Black Keys_?! How did you even manage that? It's," she checked, "Jesus, it's in New York, Jon! That was sold out, I'm sure of it!"

Happiness, actual happiness, not the pretend kind, bubbled inside of her and threatened to burst her smile even wider. Her brother knew her well. Not only did she sodding love the band, but the thought of the liberation offered at gigs, the craziness of losing yourself to dancing, made her almost sigh with adoration.

She needed this. Needed to just let loose.

She glanced up at her brother thankfully, and noticed him staring at his own gift. Not nearly as good or as expensive as hers. She had bought him a posh, large, leather bound journal, imprinted with his initials on the front.

"What's this for, want me to start a diary?" He laughed, flipping through the pages. Her brother shared her love of flipping through a new notepad. She used to go to WH Smiths just to feel up the _Pukka_ notepads.

A little nervous, she replied, "It's for your music."

He stopped and looked up, surprised. "What?"

Nora nodded, having thought it through a while back. "You keep going on about being a musician and I know you've got the talent for it, so I figured I'd help give you a kick up the arse. You can write all your songs or ideas or chords in it, and look fancy as you do so."

Jon peered at her, almost blushing, self-conscious as ever of his abilities. The boy would never boast. "Thanks," he said softly.

She waved her tickets, "Thanks."

The pair sat there, silence descending again. Jon was thinking over her words, and Nora was just thinking about old Christmases. But it didn't stay quiet for long.

"What do you say," Jon said slowly, breaking their silence, "to having a toast for Dad?"

Reluctantly, Nora agreed. "I think he would've liked that we remembered him via alcohol," she murmured.

Jon snorted. "Damn straight. Remember the Christmas when he spiked my hot chocolate? Nineteen years old and my own dad acted like a better teenager than I did."

"I think he just wanted you to loosen up – pretty sure that wasn't long after you'd got dumped by Emma Kirkson. Right before Christmas, too. Harsh."

"Ugh," Jon groaned, closing his eyes, "don't remind me of that heathen."

"She wasn't that bad," Nora laughed.

"She really was. Did I ever tell you she used to write me poems? And then she'd make _me_ read them aloud to _her_. What kind of wacko does that?"

Nora couldn't help it, she doubled over. "What?!"

"I know. Ruddy lunatic that one. Obsessed with romance."

"Romance is overrated."

Jon eyed her teasingly, "Yeah, yeah, _Mrs Cullen_."

She threw her pillow at him before standing up with a grunt, "What happened to that toast?"

He laughed at her blunt change of subject but quickly got up, heading for the kitchen and grabbing the only bottle of whiskey he had bought. Nora obviously didn't drink. Despite being seventeen, she would only have one on a special occasion or when her brother didn't know about it – and he barely drank at all, so they weren't heavily stocked.

But this was their father's favourite whiskey. Neither particularly cared for it, but it was almost obligatory that they celebrate his life with it. Jon closed his eyes for a second, too tightly to be a blink, and reopened them sadly before forcing himself to pour two shots.

He knew as well as Nora did that this was as lively as either would get on that day. It was too much effort to be lively when their father wasn't with them to indulge in it.

How had so much time passed since spring, already?

He remembered the phone call, back then, when everything was so much lighter. He remembered Nora's stark face and their cries and the blur of a funeral and just… sadness.

Every day had an echo of sadness since that phone call.

But, their father would've hated it. All the brooding and grief. He was happiness incarnate.

So Jon handed his sister the shot, forcing himself to grin. "What should we say?"

"You go first," Nora chuckled sadly, peering down at her glass.

Her brother cleared his throat obnoxiously. "To Sam Brennan, the man who spiked his son's hot chocolate and told him it was just a different brand. Merry Christmas."

He stared at Nora, expectantly.

She tried to smile, raising her own hand.

"To Sam Brennan," she managed, feeling an ache in the back of her throat. It was so _hard_. She coughed, "The man who sat through two weeks' worth of _Sesame Street_ just to cheer his kids up when they were too short for the rides at Alton Towers. Merry Christmas."

Jon let out a wet chuckle before nodding. In synch, the pair each downed their shot, swallowing the fiery taste and feeling the sting of tears in their eyes, not entirely from the alcohol.

Nora gagged, wiping her mouth. "Want to do one more?" She asked.

Jon agreed.

Hours later, slightly tipsy from the aftertaste of whiskey and dazed from a badly cooked chicken dinner, they were back to being slumped in the living room. Only this time they were lying, top and tail, on the floor, staring at the ceiling as if stars were suddenly going to scatter across it.

"D'you reckon he'd be proud of how we've handled all this?" Jon asked her, turning slightly to face her, see her expression.

Nora thought about it in her haze, and replied honestly, "I don't know but this is the best I can offer right now."

"Yeah. We need to start being happy properly, you know," Jon rambled, a bit drunk. "He'd want us to be happy above all else and I know we've managed it a bit here and there, but he'd want it to be constant. Like he was."

"How did he do it? After mum?"

The question was still pounding against her head from earlier, much like the slight headache that was forming did.

Jon hummed absently. "He was sad sometimes. I saw it in his eyes, you know. The empty stare. Horrid but increasingly familiar these days. But he _was_ happy. I think he just knew she loved him and he'd see her again soon."

"Do you really believe that?" Nora asked, glancing at him. She wished she did.

Jon sighed heavily, turning to meet her stare. "I want to," he mused, "But for now I have no idea what I believe. I hope it's true."

Nora settled back down to eye the ceiling. It seemed to be a common theme of her day, staring thoughtfully at ceilings.

Quietly, she murmured, "I do too."

"Oh before I forget," Jon sat up and crawled across to the table cluttered with a laptop and a bunch of magazines, "someone posted this for you this morning."

She sat up as well, a bit groggy, and took the thick brown envelope. It was too thick to be a card.

She stared at her name, written in perfect, calligraphic, _familiar_ script.

"He wouldn't," she muttered, narrowing her eyes and tentatively opening the seal, letting a square CD case fall into her palm.

With it was a note:

 _Nora,_

 _You once told me classical music, fine wine and smoking jackets were my forte. Perhaps they could be yours, too. Consider this my attempt to indoctrinate you._

 _Edward_

She snorted. Cocky bastard.

He hadn't mentioned Christmas and part of her, the part that always felt warm around him, knew it was because he understood her disinterest in the occasion this year.

Without a thought, she stood up, ignoring Jon's curious eyes, and replaced _The Smiths_ CD with Edward's blank one. Pressing play, she lay back down beside her brother, listening to the beginning of a piano's choppy melody.

She knew exactly what it was. The Amazon rainforest sprung to mind, clear as day. He had composed the perfect description of it, exactly as he'd said, rebellious and wild.

She had no idea how the guy managed to put those adjectives into a piano performance, but he had. He really was talented.

"He sent you a mixed tape," came the teasing voice beside her. "A pompous version of one, but still. Yet you claim there's nothing going on between you two."

Not bothering to open her eyes, Nora threw another pillow at her brother.

A smile spread across her face as Edward's piece continued to play in the background, intermingled with a groan from Jon as the pillow smacked him in the face. Her smile was a real one.

She wondered how it was that Edward Cullen managed to make her smile on a day like this, without even being in the same room.


	17. Chapter 17

**And we're finally meeting more Twilight characters. Although, possibly not one you'd expect. It's Esme! I have to admit, Nora's interaction is a lot more stilted than you might expect, but I do explain why. I hope it makes sense. I'm trying to make sure I keep her reactions in character and honestly, this is how I see it going for them.**

 **Plus, I sort of imagine that Esme might attempt to manipulate the situation in a sort of motherly, match-making kind of way. So, where Edward might seem out of character, it could just as easily be Esme exaggerating to appeal to Nora. Hint, hint.**

 **Thanks! I read your reviews, you guys are being far too flattering about my writing but I really appreciate it.**

 **Please enjoy!**

* * *

 **17**

 **Everyday I Love You Less and Less,** ** _Kaiser Chiefs_**

* * *

Settling back into work was like putting on a leather jacket. Familiar but also a bit too tight to be comfortable. As several drunk customers became more demanding as the night progressed, Nora retreated behind what she had artfully named her Waitress Face. With the capital letters and everything. She was thinking of getting it copyrighted.

Essentially, the Waitress Face was a mask worn when one was too tired to be sincere, and instead settled on a mechanical greeting, an equally robotic smile, and a buzzing sensation in the mind, not unlike being stoned, which allowed a brief reprieve from the regular occurrence of being a hare brained mess.

Nora had perfected hers and wore it throughout her shift. Particularly when dealing with the ever-friendly Sandy Pearson, who she steered clear from whenever possible. It seemed the woman had finally hooked her manicured claws into her prize, as she spent the night cuddling up to the elderly gentleman beside her, who looked a bit perplexed by the pretty woman's interest.

Honestly, if he didn't understand what she was really after, he deserved the blatant robbery that would occur.

Well, not really, but Nora was exhausted, and as she slid her way over to Donald for more drinks, she found herself becoming more and more cynical.

"What d'you need, carrot top?" Asked the equally tired bartender. If anything, Donald had more right to be knackered because he was the steadily developing nurse, while Nora was just accustomed to laziness.

"Two vodka and cokes for the clucking hens," she indicated the sparkly dressed, barely legal annoyances yammering away in the corner.

He smirked but began to make the drinks. Tapping the bar in wait, Nora decided to indulge in an actual conversation for the first time all night.

"So how's nursing going?"

Donald sighed, "As crap as I look, really. Everything I learn is stressful and it's always manic. Especially New Year's Eve. God, it was hell. I don't know how I'm gonna handle being an actual _trained_ nurse."

"You'll be fine, you've got a creepy level of intelligence hidden behind those looks," she laughed, "and if not, you could definitely give Tom Cruise a run for his money with those cocktails."

"Ah, life would be much simpler if I didn't want to help people heal," he mused wistfully, placing the finished drinks before her. "See you at closing time, I guess."

"Ha, yeah and not a moment sooner at this rate. Where the hell is Lola?"

He rolled his eyes. "Where'd you think?"

Ah, yes, the most recent development in Lola Johnson's saga. The smoking.

Nora despised it, mainly because of what it had done to her brother, but Lola was adamant that it helped reduce her stress levels. Which was utter bollocks, as she was more jittery and uptight than ever.

She couldn't blame her friend, though. She knew Lola was still struggling to deal with when and how she could break it off with Peter, come out to her parents, and actually find someone she was attracted to. She had a lot to deal with, so if she needed to smoke like a chimney while she did so, Nora would have to accept it.

That didn't mean Lola didn't get a glare when she returned from her smoking break, though.

She was given a deadpan look in response.

"Clearly you missed me dearly," Lola drawled.

"Don't get too cocky, lollipop," Nora said, grinning at the scowl, "You've got to do bins tonight."

"You're so full of it."

"With good reason. I'm awesome."

The conversation ended there, filled with more orders, more drunks, and more sweat dripping down Nora's back. She probably looked horrendous by this point, red faced, crazed hair, and the general look of anguish plastered across every waitress' face when working a busy night.

But Nora was secretly glad to be back in work. It sounded like torture, but it was something to do. Since she currently had approximately two friends, her holidays hadn't been too thrilling, moreover, she wasn't even sure where she stood with Edward at this point.

She'd listened to his CD a lot more than she'd ever tell him. It'd meant a lot, and reminded her once again, of why she liked him so much. Why she'd wanted to try.

Her New Year's Eve had been a quiet movie night with Jon, filled with a lot of commentating – from Jon – and popcorn throwing – at Jon, to shut him up. It'd been fun, but Nora had felt like she hadn't exactly fulfilled her New Year's Eve obligations.

So, she'd decided to give herself a resolution. A difficult, almost impossible one for her that she was determined to work at.

Let herself be happy.

And, she knew what it meant. School was soon to start up again next week, and she was going to let herself be happy by maintaining her friendship with the ridiculous boy whose music she couldn't stop listening to on the sly.

Finally, the night drew to a close, and Nora heaved herself onto what she was officially claiming as _her_ end-of-shift bar stool, leaning forward and relaxing as Donald wiped down. Lola settled beside her with a similarly weary sigh.

"Bins suck. But, at least we're done for the day."

"Thank God," Nora muttered into her hands, "we made it, gang."

"I refuse to be a part of a gang," Lola mumbled into the sticky bar top, seeming uncaring that her face was probably glued to it now.

"It's too late. You're in one. It's called Nora's Posse."

"Nora's _what_?"

She snorted, "Don't be crude, Donald."

He laughed softly, coming to rest beside them as they waited for Mrs Crowley's all clear. She was still in her office, probably hassled from the crazy amount of customers they'd had. The Cosy Club was quickly becoming _the_ _place to be_. Not that it was difficult, considering there was pretty much nowhere else to go to in Forks.

"Well at least you guys can sleep now," he yawned, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "I've got to go to the hospital. I'm shadowing Dr. Cullen tonight."

Nora blinked, raising her head, "Really?"

He nodded, "Despite my current exhaustion, I'm actually excited. He's the best doctor I've ever seen. No idea why he chose Forks to work in; it's tiny. He's been asked to work all over the country."

"I met him briefly, last month. Nice guy," she commented. "Seemed to know what he was doing."

He raised a brow, "Why'd you meet him? Were you in the hospital?"

Not wanting to describe her terrifying experience with Jon, she joked, "Yeah. I broke my arm. Can't you tell?"

He pushed her off her stool like the classy gentleman he lied about being.

"Alright team," called Mrs Crowley, looking just as crap as they did, "you can go home now. Thanks for all your hard work. I know today was crazy."

Nora nudged Lola, "See, even she sees us as a gang."

Slowly, Lola slipped from her stool and followed her into their bag area to grab their belongings. "Actually, she said team. Bit of a difference."

"Tom-a-to, tom-ah-to."

The trio waved goodbye to their boss and walked out, each bristling at how cold it was. Nora was a bit relieved, the cold soothed her sweaty skin, despite the fact she'd probably get ill, it was nice.

"I'm off," said Donald, giving them a strange, strangled, three-way hug before heading to his car. "See you next week, weirdos."

"And then there were two," hummed Nora, jogging on the spot to warm up. How had she flipped from boiling to freezing so bloody quickly?

Lola nodded to the car pulling up before them, "Or just one. That's my father. Sure you don't want a lift? I can blackmail him into giving you one."

"Nah, save those skills for the gang. I've got to stop off at the shop anyway."

"Out of coffee again?"

"When am I not?"

With a brief, half-hearted wave, Nora headed over to her trusty bicycle. It was the only one that was ever in the car park because no one else was insane enough to attempt cycling in freezing cold temperatures. She liked to think it was because she was a daring person but really, she knew Jon would oversleep and forget to pick her up.

Cycling relaxed her though, even if it was cold, and she felt the thrill of adrenaline as she fast-paced it to the shops, quickly locking it back up and trudging inside. With the added exercise, she could feel her legs begging her to just lie down on the supermarket floor and never get up again.

She needed sleep, desperately. Then again, she came here so often, she wouldn't be surprised if she could sleepwalk her way to where the coffee was placed.

Lost in thought, she almost missed her name being called.

"Excuse me, are you Nora Brennan?"

Blinking sleepily, she slowly twirled to face an incredibly beautiful woman who seemed to exude a potent warmth like regular people exuded sweat. Seriously, what was in the water in this town? Everyone was rub-it-in-your-face stunning.

"That's my name," she realised aloud, concluding inwardly that she was too tired to hold a reasonable conversation and the woman probably thought she was a complete idiot. She wouldn't be wrong. She coughed, awkwardly, "Uh, do I know you?"

The woman beamed at her, looking far too excited and pleased. "No. I'm Edward's mother, Esme Cullen. I just wanted to introduce myself."

Ah, now it made twisted sense. The woman was pale, like Edward, golden-eyed, like Edward, with perfectly styled caramel hair, also like Edward. His adopted mother was, like all of the Cullen's seemed to mysteriously be, very similar in appearance to Edward.

There was that looming secrecy again.

She wasn't old but her aura was incredibly motherly. It freaked Nora out far more than it should have. She'd never really considered the need for a maternal figure and here one was, ready to make her acquaintance.

She floundered for something to say. "It's nice to meet you," she said eventually, hoping it didn't sound like a question.

The woman chuckled warmly. Everything about her was warm except her skin, which looked and, if she was as similar to the rest of her family as Nora suspected, felt like ice.

"I'm sorry to bother you, I was just interested in meeting one of Edward's friends," she said with a certain look in her eye Nora couldn't place. "He's not got many," she added, as if Nora didn't know.

It reminded her of her introduction with Carlisle. They were keen to point out how _unique_ she was.

"Yeah," she chuckled, shuffling her feet, "I'm as surprised as you are. I'm not the friendliest of… friends."

Yep. She sounded like a gormless fool.

Esme shook her head, "I don't believe that for a second, Edward always talks about how wonderful you are."

Her heart clenched. She didn't question it, but offered a more genuine smile, "Really?"

The woman nodded, "Yes. He mentioned you wanted to be a writer?"

Nora raised her eyebrows, "Did he?"

She could barely remember mentioning that to him in their little conversations in class. She remembered it had come up briefly but it was something she wasn't fond of talking about. It was a bit embarrassing, career choice wise. Most people saw it as a pipe dream.

"Yes."

"Oh," Nora said, not sure what to say, "I suppose I would, yeah. Maybe. One day."

Esme looked at her kindly, "I'm sure you'll do brilliantly at it."

She rubbed her neck sheepishly, wondering how much she looked like Jon as she did so. "Thanks, but I, uh, I should probably get going," she admitted, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of the sacred coffee beans.

"Of course, dear," said Esme, still smiling. Still motherly. It was really making her uncomfortable and she felt awful for thinking it. She was lovely, but Nora really didn't do well with mothers. She was too _un-mothered_.

With a final nod, she ducked her head and turned to leave before stopping and holding her hand out to stop the woman in her tracks. A thought had jumped to her mind.

A good thought. A bit of a nervous thought.

"Actually, uh, Esme, would you mind giving this to Edward for me?" She asked, reaching into her bag and pulling out one of the gig tickets. She'd kept them in her purse since she'd gotten them and now, she could finally give Edward something in return for _his_ gift. Plus, she did want to go with him. If nothing else, it would be hilarious to see Edward let loose in a mosh pit.

She thought about her New Year's resolution. Let herself be happy.

This was the first step, she supposed.

Esme, as seemed to be her thing, looked delighted as she took the ticket, examining it so quickly Nora thought she'd imagined it, before popping it in her pocket delicately.

"I'll make sure he gets it," she promised, sweetly.

"Thanks. Could you, um, this might sound really weird," she admitted, scrunching her nose, "But could you tell him I said that this is _my_ attempt at indoctrination?"

To be fair, Esme barely blinked at the, quite frankly, bizarre message, teasingly asking, "Inside joke?"

Nora chuckled. "Sort of. Thank you."

"I look forward to seeing you again, Nora," she said, giving another smile which was returned with an awkward grimace, before leaving with the now-predictable grace.

Nora stood next to the coffee beans, unsure why she felt a little bit giddy and also, very sick.


	18. Chapter 18

**Here you go! Thank you, reviewers, you brilliant people, you! Please favourite and follow, if you like this guys, and reviews are always considered properly. I want to know what you think so I don't end up rambling a bunch of crap.**

 **I really hope you like this one. Because… drum roll… the next chapter starts the beginning of including the plot of the Twilight Saga. Uh huh. So, I've set up everything I need to before Bella's arrival. I really hope you've liked it so far, I guess you could call this a milestone for me. The end of pre-Twilight.**

 **Thank you for sticking with this story, despite how blatantly non-canon it seems to be at times.**

 **And, please enjoy this chapter! Also, the song written below is amazing. Seriously, listen to it if you get the chance.**

* * *

 **18**

 **Teardrop,** ** _Massive Attack_**

* * *

It was only her second day back in school and Nora had already come to the conclusion that she sucked at being a good student. Given how much free time she had over the holidays, she'd easily zoomed through any assignments – paying particular attention to her Creative Writing one. But now that they were back to the daily grind, she glared at her homework, hoping it might just burst into flames.

Why were they already setting this amount of homework? It was the _second_ bloody day. The teachers were clearly out to get them. She wouldn't be surprised.

With a put upon sigh, she left her Mathematics class, heading to Mr Miller's classroom and debating with herself whether to go in or not. Despite the fact that it was lunch, not their scheduled session, and knowing Lola was waiting for their usual library lunch together, Nora wanted to pop her head in and say hi. She wasn't sure why she liked spending time with her Mandarin tutor so much, but she did. Maybe it was because he reminded her of herself, with all the barbs and sarcasm. Or maybe, it was because he looked so much like her father, only with brown hair instead of her family's bright ginger.

If it were a soap opera, she'd guess he was her long lost uncle.

She laughed inwardly. As if her life would ever be that mental. Then again, she was friends with a mind reader who had a psychic and an empath – yes, she had Googled the name – for siblings.

Maybe he _was_ her long lost uncle.

"Are you going to frown at me or come in, Brennan?" Interrupted her thought process and she blinked at her teacher, taking in the usual grumpiness.

Shaking herself, she walked in, plopping herself onto a desk and swinging her feet.

"Why are you here?" He asked suspiciously.

She pretended to look affronted. "Can I not spend time with my favourite teacher?"

"No."

Waving a hand dismissively, she reached into her satchel and pulled something out of it, handing it to him. "Here."

Mr Miller stared at it, "It's a mini-Snickers."

Nora shrugged, grabbing one for herself and opening it to scoff, "I had a spare. Consider it a belated Christmas present."

A slight smirk played on his face at his own words repeated back at him, but he said nothing, opening the wrapper to eat it. Nora smiled to herself. She wasn't sure why she had bought it, they weren't friends and he barely tolerated her as it was.

But she also remembered that he had made her feel a little bit better with a chocolate bar when she didn't feel like she could possibly feel even slightly okay. So, she pretended it was her weird version of repaying him.

"How's your Mandarin coming along?" He asked, chewing the Snickers. She had already finished hers in practically one bite.

"It's okay. I find it difficult but I think I'm improving," she replied, _in Mandarin_. Like a complete badass. She really had been studying hard for it. She was still stilted, nowhere near his effortless fluency but she could say simple sentences.

He nodded, clearly reluctant to be impressed. A nod was the sort of praise she was used to from him. Weirdly, it did make her feel proud of herself.

"So, uh," she coughed, getting to the other reason she'd appeared in his classroom during lunch, "What would you say if I told you I wanted to be a writer?"

It might have seemed odd to go to Derek, of all people, for advice, but the thing was, Nora knew that of all people he was the least likely to try and appease her or avoid hurting her feelings. He would be honest with her and for some reason, she trusted his judgement.

Ever since she'd met Esme, she'd been thinking about the future. She really did want to be a writer. University was sort of a given, something that was expected of most students, but she wasn't really bothered by it. She just wanted to write. She wanted to be good enough at it that she _could_ do that for a career.

He studied her briefly before replying, "I think it's a bit of an unsafe career choice, but if you're good at it, you should do it."

"Really?"

He nodded. "I heard you're pretty good at all that poetic crap, anyway."

She frowned, "From who?"

"Gladys," he said flatly. Her confused look remained, so he added, "Your Creative Writing teacher. She doesn't shut up about her star pupil. It's all she talks about other than the news about that Swan girl enrolling next week," he rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by it.

Nora felt a bubble of incredulous laughter. She'd figured Mrs Stevens hated her; she wasn't exactly the teacher's pet. "No way."

He rolled his eyes. "Way," he drawled. "Now get out, Brennan. Lunch will be over soon and I haven't had a moment's peace since November."

"We _just_ had Christmas holidays," she retorted, jumping off her seat and pulling on her satchel.

He gave her an agonised stare. "My in-laws were visiting."

She winced in sympathy. Yeah. That did sound painful. It also explained why he looked so ruffled, even his tie looked distressed.

"Fair enough," she called over her shoulder, heading for the door, "see you in a few days, Derek!"

"Stop calling me Derek! Oh, wait a minute, Brennan," he called, walking over to her.

"What's up?"

He looked distinctly uncomfortable, not looking her in the eye, "I forgot to tell you that your counselling sessions have finished."

Nora gaped at him. She'd avoided those sessions as if they were a personal form of torture. And they sort of were. But she knew that she had to go back eventually. "How come?"

He cleared his throat, staring over her shoulder, "After your, uh, heated debate on Mandarin Chinese last term," he said dryly, and she nodded sheepishly knowing he meant her breakdown, "I spoke to Mr Davies. Those sessions were clearly unhelpful for you. They're not suited to everyone, anyway. He agreed to stop them."

Once again, she gaped at him, feeling a smile creep onto her face.

"You did that for me?" She asked, delighted and thrown off by his intuitiveness.

He nodded, grumbling, "I know what it's like. Counselling is just a pain in the arse. You're doing fine on your own, Brennan."

She blinked hard, "Uh, thanks. Seriously."

He nodded. The two stood, both as awkward with the emotional topic as the other.

Eventually he cleared his throat again, "Get out."

"Sure," she agreed easily.

With a disbelieving chuckle, she finally headed out of the classroom. She was glad she'd spoken to him. For all his gruff personality, he was a decent man. But she hadn't expected him to do that for her. Derek Miller, she shook her head. He was more than a decent man, she decided. He was a secret softie, too. Like a Crème Egg. Hard on the outside until you bash them about a bit to get to the gooey centre.

Yeah, that's what he was.

Unfortunately, she clearly hadn't mastered time management well at all, as the bell rang signalling the end of lunch as soon as she stepped into the corridor.

Nora almost pouted; all she'd eaten was a tiny Snickers. She had been looking forward to smuggling the cafeteria's chips into the library to munch on with Lola. And what a great friend she was, accidentally ditching her friend again. Jesus, she should buy an organiser or something.

Sadly, she started walking to her English class. She knew she'd be seeing Edward for the first time since the big reveal and uncomfortable talk in the hospital, and she was a teensy bit nervous. She was still freaked out by the fact that he could read her mind and part of her hoped that one day she wouldn't be. But, she doubted it.

However, with a suddenness that halted Nora in her tracks, Alice Cullen stood before her, grinning manically. Did she ever feel chilled out?

"Hi Nora," she said happily, seeming to forget their last painful confrontation in the car park. Quickly, she shoved a packet in her hand. Nora looked at it; a chicken salad sandwich.

Alice didn't bother to talk further, dancing past her towards her own class.

"How did you," she didn't bother elaborating, realising the obvious. Tinkerbell was psychic. For once unbothered by this, Nora called, "Thank you! You're my hero!"

Clearly she'd befriended the wrong Cullen if this was how Alice always was, she thought, not bothering with dignity and quickly shoving the sandwich in her mouth. It was heavenly. She got a look of disdain and disgust from a passing girl which she easily ignored. Food was food.

Eating, or more like throwing food at her face in the hopes she could swallow it whole, she headed into her own class, seeing Edward was already seated ready for the lesson. Nerd.

Without pretence, she sighed dreamily, "Your sister is a godsend."

Undaunted, and relaxing from his tense position – he had been nervous, she realised – Edward chuckled at her, "You know you've got mayonnaise on your nose."

She rubbed it off, "That's what happens when you eat a sandwich in one bite."

It was so simple to fall back into their usual dynamic that Nora felt guilty for how much she had ignored Edward last term. Brushing it off, she asked, "So how come you weren't in yesterday? You missed something amazing."

He arched an eyebrow, "What would that be?"

"The sun."

She meant it, too. It was amazing. It had actually been sunny for once, like the skies above had decided to stop having a temper tantrum as they usually did. She'd basked, rather like a beached whale, all lunchtime, soaking in the only Vitamin D she'd ever get in this town. She'd probably get rickets soon if it didn't happen again.

But yesterday _had_ been glorious, and she'd looked forward to seeing if Edward Snow White Cullen would get a sunburn. She doubted it. He would probably be the lucky son of a bitch who avoided one, somehow. He was smug like that.

He looked a little weird, sort of like he'd masked his expressions, but responded easily, "Carlisle likes to pull us out of school for camping when it's sunny. It happens so rarely, after all."

She frowned. She wasn't sure why but it just seemed wrong, somehow, like he was lying. But why he would lie about something as inane as camping she had no idea.

Just how paranoid had she become since realising he could read her mind?

Very, evidently.

"That's really cool," she replied, "how the hell did the teachers let you get away with that?"

He smirked, "I can be quite charming."

She snorted, "Yeah, you're a real Romeo."

She could just imagine him dazzling the teachers into letting him off. Honestly, was she the only one who found his good looks a bit unnerving?

"I got your music ticket," he said, changing the subject swiftly, offering her a teasing smile, he tutted, "Using my own words against me, Nora? How petty of you."

"Yeah, well who offers indoctrination as a Christmas present?" She retorted, smiling despite herself.

Edward chuckled, "Who says it was a Christmas present? Perhaps I'm simply bribing you for your friendship."

"Well mission accomplished in that case. Consider me successfully bribed."

It was the happiest she'd ever seen him look, that confirmation that she wasn't going to return to her usual routine of avoiding him stealthily.

"Can you go, then? It's not until April. I need to sort out travel and everything still."

She'd had a fun time explaining that she was bringing Edward with her to Jon. She knew he'd bought it for her and a friend, but he'd seemed shocked that she was bringing – cue the gasps – a _boy_. His response had been immediate: they were getting separate hotel rooms.

He glanced at her, "Is it in an arena or outside?"

"Uh," she tried to remember, "Pretty sure it's in Central Park, actually, so outside. How cool will that be?"

She was ridiculously excited.

He nodded, pleased, "Then yes, I can go. Though, I still find it offensive that you're forcing me to listen to rock and roll music."

"I find it offensive and insane that you don't _salivate_ over rock and roll music. Sure, your CD was amazing," she rolled her eyes at his smug grin, "but there's nothing wrong with a little diversity."

"I think I could say the same to you," he replied, pointedly.

She pursed her lips, holding back another smile. She'd never admit that she listened to his CD at least every other day. It was beautiful, she couldn't deny that. But she couldn't say the words aloud.

However, judging by his triumphant look, he knew anyway. Of course.

For once, she was glad he could read her mind. It saved her from having to embarrass herself out loud.

Edward nudged her softly, giving her a more serious look. "I heard your counselling sessions have ended," he said gently.

Nora swallowed. "Where'd you hear that?"

He avoided her eyes, almost ashamed. "I heard you thinking it. Despite not being the centre of your thoughts, it's on the peripheral."

"Oh," she replied, lost for words. He seemed to interpret it as her dislike of his ability and partially, he was right. But, she was _trying_. "It's alright, pretty boy," she mumbled, giving him a sad sort of smile. He gave one back. "But, uh, yeah. Mr Miller is awesome."

She figured he knew it was Derek. He did, nodding.

"He's right you know," Edward offered, quietly, refocusing on his work. They did this a lot – talking too quietly for the teacher to overhear, not that she'd say anything to her best students anyway, and doing their work absently alongside their conversation. The other students had finally stopped staring at them as if they were a spectacle at the zoo, getting used to the fact that, yes, Edward Cullen had a friend. Although, considering how last term has ended, the looks had started right back up again, waiting for more drama.

"Right about what?" She asked, curiously.

He glanced up, giving her a look that made her feel warm again. He seemed to be the only person that could do that to her. She couldn't quite decipher what the emotion in his expression was, but she knew it was something she often reflected back to him.

"You _are_ doing fine on your own," he said eventually.

Nora looked at her own note pad, feeling strangely content.

"Thanks, Edward," she murmured, beginning to write her answers down. She felt an urge to reveal something to him, unexpectedly, and decided to go for it. "My New Year's resolution was to let myself be happy," she admitted, feeling vulnerable.

He looked at her, a smile playing on his lips. "Mine too."

It seemed everyone was capable of surprising her that day.


	19. Chapter 19

**Well. It had to happen at some point. It's meant to be a drama, after all. And come on, how long did you really think it'd last before it happened? I've put it off for as long as I could.**

 **Don't hate me. Or Nora, actually.**

 **It's a bit short but by the end, it sort of has to be. You'll see why.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **19**

 **Closer,** ** _Kings of Leon_**

* * *

Nora wasn't sure what she'd expected but it hadn't been this. The girl had been talked about so much that even _she'd_ had expectations of Isabella Swan, and they were certainly wrong.

Isabella wasn't quite what she'd pictured and that realisation made Nora feel ashamed of herself. Because she had expected her to be graceful, strong, a proper city-dwelling take-no-prisoners type. Someone exciting. Instead, Isabella was sort of… bland. It wasn't because of her looks; Nora could dig the whole doe eyed, dainty thing she had going for her.

It was her personality. She'd been in three of the girl's classes now, and had yet to see her do much more than stammer, blush and perpetually bite her lip as if she were secretly a hungry cannibal.

But then again, who was she to expect the girl to look and act a certain way? She'd despised the attention when she'd first started back in September and she assumed, judging by Isabella's constant blushes, stuttering and almost smacking herself with the classroom door that the girl was in the same boat.

So, she tried to reign in her brashness and offered the most awkward smile in history when she carefully perched next to Nora in Maths. Isabella didn't manage to return it, as she ended up slamming her elbow hard into the table in her efforts to sit down. It was almost funny how clumsy someone could be with a last name like Swan. Personally, Nora found it refreshing; everyone seemed so collected and graceful in this town – cough, Cullen's, cough – that any sign of normal human awkwardness was a bonus.

"Hey," she attempted, trying to sound nice and not terrifying. She dreaded to think on how the girl had handled Forks' welcoming committee. She remembered her own first day with an appropriate level of horror; they were too in-your-face. Especially for someone as seemingly meek as this girl. In fact, even now, they were being stared at with a ridiculous intensity by the majority of the classroom. "Isabella, right?"

The girl barely looked at her. "Just Bella," she mumbled, almost mechanically.

Nora's eye twitched. Alright-y then. Personally, the nickname Bella reminded her of Bellatrix Lestrange, but she'd follow the girl's wishes. Bella it was. Ugh.

"Uh, I'm Nora," she offered with a wave. "I moved here pretty recently, too. Don't worry; they'll stop staring if you act boring enough."

She said this as if she didn't still receive gawking herself. But, she knew that was more because of the everlasting disbelief the school's population held due to her friendship with Edward, so she wouldn't bother adding on that little detail.

Bella laughed weakly. "Thanks."

And that was that, the end of the conversation. Nora didn't blame her. She wasn't exactly a socialite and first days were rough as it was. Besides, Nora could already tell that Bella probably wasn't the type to appreciate the blunt sarcasm she usually spoke with. It might frighten her. She was seriously starting to resemble Bambi in Nora's mind.

The class soon ended and, offering an equally uncomfortable smile as she had to begin with, she bid the newbie a farewell. She watched in amusement as the curly haired girl who had tried to befriend Nora on _her_ first day, quickly snatched up Bella, chattering away and ignoring the fact that the girl barely responded.

Nora didn't try to intervene, for one simple fact. It was _finally_ lunch time.

And this time, she would actually stick to her plan and meet Lola for their designated chit chat in the library.

Waltzing in as if she owned the place, she collapsed into a seat opposite the blonde, who barely blinked at her appearance. In fact, Nora could tell that Lola wasn't really with it. Instead, she was staring blankly at her fingernails.

"Oi," she said, getting the girl's attention. She frowned, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Lola said distantly, going back to staring at her fingernails.

Peering at them herself, Nora didn't see anything interesting, and grew more concerned.

"Really?" She arched an eyebrow, "Because your nail polish, while fascinating, can only be stared at broodily for an allotted amount of time before I start questioning your sanity."

"How much time do I have left?" She asked, grumpily, scowling at Nora.

She shrugged, "Minus two seconds."

With an almighty groan, Lola rubbed her eyes tiredly. Okay, now Nora really was concerned. Lola was willingly ruining some of her eye makeup. Something was definitely not good.

Eventually, the blonde informed her, "It's Peter."

"What about him? Did he steal your hairspray again?"

Another scowl. "That only happened once and I regret telling you that story."

"Come on, just tell me what's wrong before I start singing _The Kinks_ at you again."

"Fine," Lola huffed, straightening up and glancing at her with a sigh. "I need to break up with him."

Nora waited. Nothing. "Okay, we both knew this already," she said, confused.

But Lola just got annoyed. "You don't understand. I know you're perfectly comfortable with being considered a weirdo by the majority of the school – "

"Who the hell thinks I'm a weirdo?" Nora asked, offended.

"- but I'm _not_ ," Lola continued meaningfully. "Like I said, people expect Peter and I to be together. We're the golden couple. If I break up with him… it won't end well. I'll be shunned by pretty much everyone."

Nora felt slightly disappointed, disagreeing immediately. "No you won't. Because I wouldn't shun you for doing the right thing. I'd respect you."

Lola gave her a look. "Of course _you_ would. But not everyone's like you."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't care what they think then. They're clearly twats if they'd actually shun you for something as simple as doing what you want. That's crazy."

Lola didn't respond, looking gloomily at her nails again.

She wasn't sure what to say. Malcolm came to mind once again and Nora knew she had to say something. Anything. She couldn't let another friend ruin themselves because of something as uncontrollable as sexuality.

"Listen," she said softly, leaning forward to speak quieter. Christ knows who would overhear. "You _know_ it's wrong, staying with someone for those reasons, otherwise you wouldn't be in this state. Peter seems like a douche, sure, but he's still a person. He might genuinely like you and you're using him. You have to end it, Lola."

Her friend stared at her, frowning slightly, before reluctantly nodding.

"Yeah, I know," she whispered, sniffing. "I should get going, anyway. Lunch is over," she added, abruptly.

Nora blinked. She hadn't even heard the bell. She checked her watch, seeing they had at least fifteen minutes left but Lola was already packing up.

She looked at her, realising that maybe she just wanted some time to herself.

So, Nora did what she did best. Joked.

"Alright, lollipop. I'm an incredibly popular person so I'm gonna go hang with my other, well, _friend_ ," she chuckled. "See you tomorrow?"

Lola just nodded idly, not looking at her.

Nora left the library, walking in the opposite direction to her friend, feeling dismal at her failure to help her.

Her mind was like a whirlwind, thinking over Lola's situation. She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to grab Lola's face and force her to listen, to tell her that it didn't matter, had never mattered, and Lola needed to do what made her happy.

But she couldn't do that because Lola had to see it for herself. Or she'd never accept it.

Man, this sucked. Lola, for all her faults, deserved to be comfortable in her own skin. Everyone did. Why the hell did people care so much about who liked who, anyway? It wasn't anything to do with them.

She should probably calm down. Now wasn't the time to start preaching gay rights to an empty corridor.

Although, as it turned out, it wasn't as empty as she'd believed.

Nora realised this when she almost tripped, knocking into something hard, lost in thought as she was. Was Isabella Swan's clumsiness contagious?

She glanced up briefly, noticing it was Edward. She began to smile, "Oh, hey, Eddie–"

She stopped talking. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered why she always had huge moments of realisation in this sodding corridor. It was almost like the perfect setting for a cheesy high school drama.

All Edward had done, was look up to meet her eyes. He hadn't even spoken to her yet. But it was enough.

He reacted as well, immediately stiffening. He probably read her mind, she thought absently. He looked so anguished all of a sudden. So he hadn't expected this. He hadn't seen this coming. She guessed Alice didn't have twenty/twenty psychic vision. Well, no one could blame her for that.

Neither of them moved a muscle. There was no one in the corridor, most of the school still tucked away safely in the cafeteria. Nora felt incredibly alone. It struck her hard in the chest.

Because, oh God, his _eyes_. Her heart was pounding, she realised, feeling it start to beat faster. And her face was slowly paling, from shock and _fear_.

She never wanted to fear him, but she couldn't help herself. It was ingrained in her.

His golden eyes. His very distinct, gold coloured eyes were suddenly a deep, coal black. If she were up to it, she might describe them as bottomless, swirling pits of darkness, or something else melodramatic.

And she thought she wouldn't ever care about something as superficial as looks…

How times changed.

Her dream rushed to the front of her mind with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Those eyes. It was a blurry memory, parts still not quite fitting together, but she remembered the fear. The same fear currently slithering up her spine. No human could simply change eye colour, not like that, not so drastically.

She remembered waiting to see those eyes the day after she'd dreamt it, but her worries had been soothed by the lack of them. Why here? Why did he have them now, so many months on?

The Cullen's had always been enigmas. She'd said it so many times; it was so obvious, they had _so_ many secrets. She hadn't wanted to know. She still didn't.

But she couldn't stop her reaction if she'd tried.

Because it wasn't just the eyes. It never had been.

It was all of those niggling little details: the unnatural beauty, the iciness of their skin, the constant lies that they both silently acknowledged, the fucking _gifts_ they just seemed to have.

For God's sake, they said they were adopted but they were almost identical in all the ways that stood out to Nora as odd.

 _RUN._

There it was again. Just like in her dream. A gut instinct, primal and overwhelming, forcing her to shakily step back even as he tensed, his jaw clenched.

She was scared of him. Of Edward. Her friend Edward whose face became a backdrop to those unsettling, dark eyes.

Nora felt incredibly sick.

"Nora, I can explain everything," he said slowly, finally breaking the silence that had been ringing in her ears. Oh wait, that was just her heartbeat. His voice had changed from its usual tenor, and now was almost a croon, soothing, trying to calm her down.

It made her skin crawl.

She opened her mouth, trying to ask him, trying to demand an answer to this infuriating, terrifying jigsaw. It was almost a game, by this point – how long before she simply figured it out?

"What are you, Edward?" She uttered, almost asking herself rather than him. Her voice remained low and steady, despite her innate fear. It was a blunt question, and she'd never asked him so directly before, not out loud at least, but she needed to. They'd both known it would happen eventually – God, even Alice had told her they knew of her suspicions.

They'd all been waiting for her to just man up, and ask them directly. And it had finally happened. It was almost a relief to put it out there.

But it was also terrifying, because whatever their secret was, Nora knew it was going to be something awful.

He could see her fear, she realised, as he didn't try moving towards her. She laughed, slightly hysterical, completely miserable, as he tried to speak.

She didn't let him, whispering her thoughts aloud.

"I don't think I even want to know, but what I want doesn't really matter anymore, does it?"

She was right. It didn't matter whether she wanted to know or not. It was too obvious, almost palpable, that she wasn't going to be able to ignore it this time. She'd dismissed all of this one time too many.

 _RUN._

Her dream had been a warning. It had felt so important, so significant, and she'd dismissed it. Why had she done that? Because it was unbelievable. But here was the proof. Those black orbs currently boring into her was evidence enough.

Nora swallowed against the tightness in her throat, dry and sticky, trying to make sense of all this. Why was this happening again? It was just like last time, her last God damn epiphany.

Why couldn't she just be happy and be friends with him without all this added to it?

Why did something constantly creep up to shatter them?

The answer was perfectly clear. She couldn't just 'be happy', because she could see, now, how unnatural he truly was. How _inhuman_. And the need to know why that was overwhelmed any happiness. The need to know _what_ he was.

He wasn't human. He was something else, something… other.

What was Edward Cullen?

"Are you dangerous?" She asked next when he didn't respond.

He stared at her. "I don't want to be," he replied honestly.

She knew he meant it but her hands continued to shake. It was telling, how carefully he had worded his answer.

At least he was being honest with her. Finally.

"I have to go to class," she choked out, trembling. She put up a hand in defence when he tried to come closer, " _Don't_. Please."

He looked like she'd stabbed him. He looked like he wanted to stab himself.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice trembling, but not with fear of her or of himself, just a trembling brokenness. Agonised.

She sighed shakily, breathing in, trying to clear her head.

"Yeah, me too," she responded eventually, listening to her voice echo in the empty corridor. She meant it. Because no matter what happened next, he was still her friend.

Her mind was on a loop.

Edward. Her friend, Edward. Her inhuman friend, Edward.

"We can talk after school," she said finally, barely meaning it. He stood there, staring at her. She just wanted to get _away_. "Go to Biology, Edward," she commanded.

"I'll meet you in the car park," he promised, solemn.

She couldn't stay there for another second. Without looking up at him, she nodded jerkily, turned, and walked away as calmly as was possible, trying to rid that feeling.

That need to escape.

One of them always ended up fleeing these conversations, and this time it was her turn.


	20. Chapter 20

**Ready for more dramatics? I'm glad you guys understood Nora's reaction – you're right, she isn't going to find them amazing and awe-inspiring like Bella did upon her discovery. She's not like Bella, at all, so she's gonna need time and explanations. Plus, I feel like all that grief inside of her isn't going to help matters. It changes your thought process and something as big and ground-breaking as Edward being a vampire would probably result in a strange reaction.**

 **Which hopefully, will be satisfactory in this chapter! I'm glad you guys figured out the timeline. Obviously, Edward has now realised Bella has crazy-luscious blood and nearly went into a frenzy over it. I don't take that fact lightly.**

 **Anyway – you might find Nora's reactions in this chapter really weird, but I just see it this way for some reason. The mind reading was an issue because she's private, but this is completely different. Plus, she's sort of in shock for the entire thing. So no major hysterics.**

 **Thank you for all your reviews, please keep them coming. You're all awesome people.**

 **Also, weird side note, the video for this chapter's song features a man practically bulldozing his way past people as he walks – that's the imagery I have of Nora at the beginning. Ha.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

 **20**

 **Bittersweet Symphony,** ** _The Verve_**

* * *

Nora had no idea how she managed to sit through her final class that day. It was like she was drowning; her ears clogged, her eyes unfocused, and the feeling in her chest winding tighter and tighter.

Her notepad sat blankly on the table top and she was glad that this was more of a lecture than a do-it-yourself lesson because she wouldn't be able to pick up her pen and focus even if she wanted to.

Eventually it ended. She had been given a few curious looks; she didn't blame them, if she'd seen someone stare mindlessly out of the window for an hour straight, she'd be a bit worried, too.

When the bell rang it reminded her, briefly, of the church bells that had rung hollowly at her father's funeral. Mocking, cruel ringing.

Time to go, Nora. Get out, Nora. You can't do this, Nora.

The claustrophobia she remembered experiencing in that horridly cold church threatened to engulf her once more.

She sat for a moment, not bothering to pack up and succumbing to the need to put her head in her hands. For a few minutes, she focused on just breathing in and out, over and over again. She had no idea what she was going to do. Or say. Or think.

Part of her just wanted to go home, get under her bedcovers, and never leave them.

She'd feel safer. More normal.

Bitterness prickled over her. None of this was fair. Ever since she'd started in this school, her life had steadily been twisted into a gnarled, twisted version of normality versus abnormality. It was never one or the other, just a constant battle between the two. Even this was a dogfight.

Normal: Edward and Nora were in the middle of an argument.

Abnormal: The argument was over Edward's apparent, fucking _inhumanity_.

Jesus. She just wanted to sleep for a long time and wake up to her father's crap singing as he showered before work.

But, Nora didn't get to do that. She never got to fucking do that again.

She was angrier than she expected to be and honestly, she had no idea who she was even angry at.

Life in general, she decided. It was so cruel. It ripped away everything that offered even a miniscule amount of security for her.

Her father? Dead.

Her brother? Struggling to cope. Nearly dead too, actually, because of her own stupidity, not recognising that he had something as obvious as asthma.

Lola? Too ashamed of her identity to let herself just _be_.

Edward? Ha, apparently, not even sodding _human_.

Nora? Well, she just really wanted to scream. Not from fear – oddly, considering the day she was having. But from pure, adrenaline-fused anger at everything. Apparently being scared was too lame for Nora Brennan, and anger was her new and improved emotion of choice.

Slowly, she packed her things away, dropping them into her bag uncaringly, and slouched out of the classroom. She ignored everyone else and, perhaps noticing her expression, most people moved out of her way before she rammed into them mindlessly.

She was pretty sure she almost knocked over the new girl, who she idly noticed looked miserable too, as she headed for the exit. Was she projecting her emotions so much that she imagined the fear and sadness on Bella's face? Probably.

In a blink of an eye, it felt, she was standing beside her bike. People probably questioned why she wasn't unlocking it and escaping from this hell hole, but she continued her theme of ignoring everything. Blocking it all out. It was as if her mind had simply shut down and could only do basic functions.

"Nora."

It was like déjà vu. She turned, and Alice, alone, unlike last time, was standing there in all her inhuman glory. That fact just loved to keep springing forward and slapping her in the face, didn't it?

Inhuman. Inhuman. Inhuman.

Of all the things she could possibly think, what sprung to mind was a quote from _Macbeth_ , their current literary text in class:

 _Looks like the innocent flower,_

 _But be the serpent underneath it._

She didn't think it was supposed to be taken quite so literally but it had never been a more eloquent description of the person stood before her.

Alice was tiny; much shorter than Nora, and very delicately petite. She looked like a porcelain doll, almost fragile. But, Nora could feel the unmistakable fear at the sight of her. She inspired far, far too much fear in her to be considered fragile.

Her eyes were black too, Nora noted. Were all of them the same? She wouldn't be surprised. Actually, she just found herself more exhausted than anything else. Blank.

"Where is he?" She muttered, not bothering with conversation beyond that.

Alice tilted her head, surveying her. "He had to go straight home, unfortunately. He's decided to leave Forks for a while. It's not because of you," she explained upon Nora's change in expression, slight as it was. "But I'm going to convince him to go to your house before he leaves."

She wasn't sure what she should say.

"Are you the designated secret teller?" She asked eventually.

The pixie shook her head slowly, glancing around the slowly emptying car park. "No," she replied quietly, a certain tension falling over her, "I think its best that you hear it from Edward, don't you?"

Nora laughed bitterly. She really wanted to give up.

"Honestly, I don't think it's best I hear anything at all," she admitted, not looking up from her shoes. Huh, they were dirty. Nothing surprising there.

"We've surpassed that."

"Yeah. I know. Too suspicious for my own good," she muttered. "What do the others think?"

"I imagine they'll be extremely angry," said Alice, eyes faraway, "but Edward hasn't told them yet. He will, before he speaks to you."

Nora swallowed at the thought of all that anger being aimed at her. It was petrifying.

"Lucky me," she drawled, emptily. She was blank. Just blank. She refused to be scared. Blank was much better.

Alice, oddly, offered a sad smile. "We're not supposed to befriend humans," she responded and the label was like a punch in the gut. The sting of fear returned with a vengeance.

"Why did you tell me that?" She asked, wanting to leave.

The pixie clearly figured that out, sighing again. All Nora ever managed to do was make this happy maniac sad, somehow or another. Perhaps that was _her_ gift: depressing everyone around her.

"Because Edward decided to befriend you even with that knowledge," she said firmly, before turning to leave. "Goodnight, Nora."

Nora remained mute and motionless as she was left alone, Alice's words floating around her mind.

Just like in the corridor, her mind muddled between her two versions of Edward.

The inhuman, terrifying enigma. The one with the dark black eyes and ability to read her every thought without blinking.

Or, her friend. The one who had spoken about the loss of his mother and given her a CD of his piano composition. The one who hated rock and roll but looked pleased that he was going to a concert with her. The one who debated with her about morality in _The Road_ on her first day, managing to distract her, even for a moment, from her grief.

How was she supposed to fuse those two images together?

She didn't know. Instead, she unlocked her bike and cycled home. She was surprised she wasn't genuinely hit by a car given how out of it she was. The house was empty, Jon was still at work.

Good. She didn't want him to be there when Edward arrived.

Bloody hell. _She_ didn't want to be there when Edward arrived.

But arrive he did, right as Nora finished stirring a cup of coffee in an effort to stay sane from the wait. She had been sitting in silence for at least an hour, lost in thought.

She set the mug down carefully, listening to the slight thud as it was placed on the kitchen table. Everything seemed much more precise for some reason, like she was honing in on every detail of everything she did in an effort to avoid her blatant emotional overload.

The knock echoed through the empty house. It was almost chilling how much she was reminded of a horror movie in that moment. She stood and headed to open it, glancing out the window to see his car parked in Jon's pseudo-driveway. The Volvo looked unbelievably out of place there, but as she opened the door to face him, she realised Edward looked even more alienated than his pretentious car.

His hair was in more disarray than usual and judging by his haggard expression, it was from running his hand through it constantly. Everything else was perfect and pristine as usual, not a wrinkle out of place on his clothing, but his emotions clashed against the image violently.

He looked… she wasn't really sure how to describe it. It was like he was blazing and frozen all at once. Sort of like how she was feeling, really.

His emotions were so intensely present on his face that she barely paid attention to the black colour of his eyes. It was so _human_ , his reaction to all this.

"Tell me," she muttered after her examination. "Please just tell me. Get it over with. It's the reason you're here."

And he did. Like a band aid being ripped off.

He swallowed once. Stared at her. And said it slowly and carefully, each word calculated and thought through.

"I'm a vampire."

She didn't scream. She didn't laugh. She didn't faint or cry or gawk in adoration. She'd had so many emotions whirling around her mind throughout the day that she couldn't muster an appropriate response. She wasn't sure what her reaction should be, or what it even truly was, beyond a long hard stare.

Then, she shuffled to the side, no longer blocking the doorway.

"Do I have to invite you in then?" She asked quietly, biting her cheek so hard she was surprised she didn't take a chunk out of it.

"No."

It was said incredibly quietly, his voice strained.

She nodded slowly, and tilted her head towards the kitchen. "I made myself a coffee," she said, and then simply walked back into her house.

She knew he was following her. A big part of her was screaming at her for turning her back on him. The other, was in as much shock as was possible without keeling over.

In tense silence, they sat opposite one another, Nora picking up her coffee and wrapped her fingers around the mug, feeling them tingle from the warmth, while Edward sat with rigid composure.

This was the first time Edward had seen her house, she remembered, as his eyes warily flitted around the room. It was untidy, small and there were dirty dishes waiting to be washed. She found herself incredibly unbothered by that fact.

Swallowing the scalding liquid, she placed it back down and looked at him. He was already looking at her, his jaw clenched again.

"You're afraid," he concluded emptily. Maybe he was trying to avoid his emotions like she was.

She nodded. There was no point in hiding it.

"Do you drink human blood?" She asked then, so bluntly that he flinched as if physically struck.

It was the only question she could think of and she had a bad feeling that the answer would tip her head back into proper emotional response, one way or another.

He shook his head. "No," he murmured, pained, "we drink from the blood of animals."

"But you want to," she surmised from his response. She remembered all too well his answer to her questioning how dangerous he was. It was all about want.

"Not in the way you think. I don't _want_ to be like this, Nora. I'm a monster," Edward said, still incredibly quiet. Abruptly, he changed the subject. "Human blood," he leaned away from her, as if the conversation was so disturbing that he needed room to breathe. Ironic considering he was… she swallowed hard. _Undead_. "It's intoxicating for us, yes. But not a necessity for survival."

Relief filtered through the blankness so strongly that she knew he saw her evident slump.

It made him quickly continue, "But that means nothing. I am a danger to you. To all humans."

Nora knew this. It was why the fear was underlining everything. It was why she'd fled earlier. It was why she refused to focus on anything but this conversation. Otherwise, she'd combust.

But Alice's words echoed again.

"Why did you bother befriending me then, Edward?" She asked, truly confused. She really had no idea what was going through his mind.

He licked his lips, finally looking away from her to the window. The sky was steadily darkening. Jon would be home in an hour.

When he did respond, his voice was hoarse.

"Because you fascinated me. You are incredibly human, Nora. In all the best ways. When I'm around you, you make me feel human too."

She almost smiled from his phrasing but she was too overwhelmed to muster one.

"Not completely or we wouldn't be having this conversation," she responded instead, monotonous.

He didn't respond to her poor joke, instead stating, "It was foolish of me."

She didn't take offence. She could see how it was foolish quite easily.

"Do you regret it?" She asked.

This time, he took a moment to properly think of what his answer actually was. She could almost see him balancing out all the pros and cons. She imagined the cons were massive; considering one of them was that she'd ended up finding out a colossal secret that was never meant to be discovered.

And despite it all, his response made her smile slightly, for the first time all day:

"I could never regret you."

There was another silence. Edward eventually broke it.

"I'm leaving town tonight."

She nodded. "Alice told me."

A flicker of irritation passed over his face and she wondered if he was annoyed at his sister's involvement in this mess. It was bizarre, thinking about it. This, this _vampire_ was as capable of being irritated by his sibling as she was of hers.

But, categorising him like that made her feel uncomfortable. Despite everything, all this stupid drama and her own emotional turmoil, she looked at him, sitting there, willingly sharing something she knew he really shouldn't be telling her, and she saw her friend.

Edward. Her friend, Edward.

"You should go," she whispered, scooting back in her chair. She didn't particularly want to see him as her friend right now.

He copied her actions, his face miserable as he nodded in brief acceptance. He was giving her a lot of control over the situation. It surprised her.

They'd barely been seated for a minute before they were each, once again, stood on one side of the door, looking at each other. Nora didn't know where to go from there.

"I need time to process all of this," she admitted. He seemed to have expected it. "Can we talk again when you get back, please?"

He hadn't expected _that_. His entire stature softened, ever-so-slightly and he nodded.

"Goodbye, Nora," he murmured, before turning stiffly and walking to his car.

Her eyes followed him as she stood there and before she could think it through, she called his name.

He turned, expectant. Sad. Lonely.

It was the last part of the description that made her say it. Made her realise it.

"You're not a monster," she said, shaking her head. "Not to me."

She wasn't sure how it was she'd come to this conclusion. But his loneliness… a monster couldn't feel that way. Nor the sadness. Nor the want for friendship.

A monster couldn't have faked it all. He was her friend.

He stared at her and it was as if he'd never looked at her before.

It was a long time before he replied, and she could hear the strangled emotions in his voice.

"Thank you."

As he pulled out of her driveway, heading to God knows where, she felt each syllable of his reply press themselves against her, letting her chest loosen once more.


	21. Chapter 21

**SHE FINALLY KNOWS HE'S A VAMPIRE! Hallelujah, am I right?**

 **Ok so, up to this point in the plot, Nora has been an incredibly evasive and flaky person. She's practically run away from all her problems thus far – she avoided Edward after the mind reading discovery, after her dream, even after her initial realisation that he wasn't human. As such, I can see why it would seem in character for her to do so again.**

 **But – and this is sort of majorly important and a huge sign of Nora's growth – she knows she can't run away from this one. She knows about vampires and she has to make a decision regarding Edward and what she wants to do from this point on.**

 **So, this chapter is going to be the battle of Nora's mind really. It's basically the clash of choosing to continue running away from her problems or acknowledging the fact that her friendship with Edward is too important to her. She has to accept the fact that she already knows she is willing to be friends with Edward, even knowing he's a vampire. It's a huge deal for her. She's no longer a loner who doesn't want friends. That's Nora's next epiphany, I guess you could say. Not that she needs to be friends with Edward, but the realisation that she wants to be his friend badly enough that she's willing to step forward and confront her fears and deal with this problem.**

 **Edward, after all, is Nora's best friend. She hasn't said it or thought it, but it's pretty clear. And she's not going to give up that kind of friendship without a fight.**

 **It doesn't mean that she's gonna accept him back hands down – he's in Alaska anyway. It just means she's trying.**

 **That was a long examination of Nora's psyche but I wanted you guys to know where she stood. She isn't a 2D character after all, this whole plot is about her maturing.**

 **And I hope it explains why this chapter develops the way it does.**

 **Please enjoy and review. I love hearing what you think.**

 **Thanks!**

* * *

 **21**

 **Believe,** ** _Mumford & Sons_**

* * *

She couldn't sleep.

The sudden insomnia forced Nora into a turmoil of hot, uncomfortable restlessness. She reflected on how reminiscent it was of her springtime; the blur of grief and utter loss had been so strong it had easily snatched any hope of sleep from her. She felt it keenly once more. Her house had suddenly become too small, a cramped cage. She could not lie there, listening to the ringing silence, waiting for the slow creep of time to progress from night to day.

Abruptly dissatisfied with her prone position, Nora shot out of bed and dressed without looking at what she put on, immediately heading for the door.

She scribbled a brief explanation to Jon on an old envelope:

 _Jon,_

 _Gone for a bike ride. Will get to school on time._

 _Love Nora_

Placing it carefully on the table in an easily spotted position, she grabbed her raincoat – just in case - and headed out the door.

It was still night time if the view was to be described. The sky was a dark bruising navy, still scattered with stars and camouflaged by the muggy presence of fog that lingered on the ground eerily. It was cold, far too cold to consider going to the beach at four o'clock in the morning and yet, as she sped along the empty roads, the only presence of life in sight, she ultimately felt the thrill of exhilarating adrenaline.

She had needed the rush of cold air on her face. The refreshing blast of a numbing breeze as she whipped forward, speeding like a bullet and interrupting the peaceful stillness that had settled over the sleeping town.

Her legs burned, her chest rose and fell quickly and she could feel the sweat clinging to the back of her neck. She felt awake and alive and slightly high on nothing but the pressing need to stop thinking about anything at all.

She needed this. The liberation of being just ordinary Nora for a while, of being alone and forgetting about the overwhelming secrets that seemed to invade her life at every turn.

Somehow, she made the unconscious decision to stop thinking altogether, mechanically following the few signs dotted around the place. She found the beach easily enough, and locked her bike around one of the bordering trees. Shucking off her trainers and socks, she trudged onwards, feeling the soft sand moulding around her bare feet.

As she'd hoped, it was utterly deserted, no one feeling the pull of insomnia quite like she did that night. Or morning now, she supposed. Not many tended to walk at four o'clock in the morning. She was sincerely glad for her father's hooded jumper and the added raincoat, but even that couldn't protect her from the bitter cold.

It was January. It was some time past four o'clock. It was a beach. And she'd up and decided that wearing a measly pair of jogging bottoms and a jumper would be warm enough. She was a bit of a moron.

Nora stood on the stark white sand and stared at the horizon. The sun hadn't come up yet and she could barely see the ocean but she drifted aimlessly towards it anyway, listening to the crash of the waves. The surge of adrenaline was still pumping through her blood, making her mind reckless with the need to do _something_. _Anything_ to stop thinking.

She settled for violently throwing rocks at the water.

Each splash, each release of a stone, was unbelievably freeing. All the anger, all the hurt, all the astonishment, all the fear – she threw it forwards with all the strength she could muster.

And suddenly, she wasn't just throwing rocks, but yelling incoherently, jumping and kicking the water, uncaring of her soaked calves, uncaring of anything but the need to free herself of all these emotions.

Because, despite how hard she tried, the blanketing shock of the previous day had faded away, leaving question after question after question.

It was too much, this discovery of hers. Well, barely a discovery. More a forced reveal.

Vampires.

Suddenly, it had stopped being a ghost story, instead intruding on her life and all its preconceived ideas, as a cold, concrete, inescapable fact.

Vampires were real. Her friend was a vampire. Undead. A monster, in his own words.

Nora swallowed, letting the water freeze her feet. Wishing it could freeze her mind, too.

 _How could he be?_ Even in the aftermath of everything, Nora still couldn't reconcile Edward with the concept of a monster. Because yes, she was frightened. She probably would always feel the creeping fear that seemed to slither down her spine. But it wasn't fear of Edward, it was fear of what he couldn't control.

 _'_ _Human blood, it's intoxicating for us.'_

And that confirmation only reminded her of something far more disturbing. Nora could distinctly remember meeting Edward's brother, with his perpetually pained expression and the distance he placed between himself and other humans. It made so much terrifying sense now.

Was that the hunger? The intoxicating bloodlust? Was Jasper Hale constantly in danger of falling off the precipice and becoming what she most feared? A _true_ monster?

Were all of the Cullen's?

And then the selfish question: was _Edward_?

Is that how he saw her? A vulnerable, unknowing, walking-talking blood bag.

 _No_. It was an immediate response. For some reason, her loyalty to Edward's friendship immediately dismissed the idea that he had simply been toying with her.

She knew he hadn't been; he had helped her grieve, helped her be happy, and helped her to start _living_. He may have this horrifying condition, but he was still her friend. It was irrefutable. It had been for a while, she realised. It was the reason she'd denied his label of a monster yesterday.

But how could she possibly understand this? It was too much for her. She was human. Ordinary. She held no want to delve deeper into the dark pits of the supernatural.

She didn't know what to do.

Part of her, the part that was defensive and evasive and terrified of her own emotions, just wanted to try and live normally again. Be a normal human and leave the vampires behind her. She would've done that before, wouldn't she?

Before she knew him properly.

Hissing in pain, Nora snapped out of her thoughts as she noticed a rock had knocked into her ankle bone, possibly bruising it. She quickly retreated to the drier sand and spotted a lone branch of driftwood strewn across the beach like a forgotten corpse.

She stared at it, feeling a strange abandonment; she was one fleck of darkness on the beach's stark landscape. She had never felt so viscerally alone. And with that thought, she was reminded vividly of Edward. His palpable loneliness.

Nora breathed out slowly. She was no longer the girl who was scared of her emotions. She hadn't been for a while. Because she didn't want to abandon Edward. Not again. She couldn't keep running from him.

She knew, deep down, that she couldn't run from _any_ of it this time, because she couldn't handle the thought of their friendship crumbling to dust. It was too important to her.

Edward was too important to her. He'd somehow, in amongst their chats and jokes and arguments and epiphanies, become an integral, immovable part of her life. Her new attempt at living. He was there, with Jon and Lola.

Part of her needed Edward, for the simple fact that he was her _friend_. And he needed her friendship too, she knew. He had told her as much in the hospital car park, what felt like years ago.

 _'_ _You make me feel… lighter. Happy.'_

Not happ _ier_. It had stuck with her, that distinction. She made him _happy_.

And vampire or no, Edward Cullen deserved to be happy.

She wouldn't abandon him this time.

But she did know one thing: she wouldn't be able to decide anything properly without getting all the facts. Unbiased and honest facts. Facts that would prove her newfound loyalty to her friend wasn't just the naïve daydreams of a moron.

And as soon as the thought came to her, she was shoving her sandy feet into her trainers, barely feeling the scrape of grit against the harder material of her footwear, and running towards her bike.

She didn't think about the fact that it was, by this point, just turning five o'clock. She didn't think about how much she currently resembled a street urchin.

She just cycled, faster than before, and stopped before the big, beautiful house. For possibly the first time ever, Nora wasn't running away or deflecting or hiding. She was going to _deal_ with the situation, God damn it, and that meant speaking to the only available option left for her.

It wasn't until she knocked on the door and Alice, fully dressed and wide awake, answered it, that she realised it was probably a bit presumptuous to assume they'd be awake at five o'clock in the morning.

But, Alice was unperturbed by her dishevelled appearance. Instead, she looked expectant.

"You saw me coming then," Nora guessed with a tired smile.

Alice nodded, examining her curiously. She was wet from her thighs down, slightly covered in sand, red faced and windswept. But it was more than a curious glance; Alice's stare was almost shrewdly deciphering Nora's expression, clearly wondering how the conversation she was about to attempt was going to go, and what it would mean for her family.

Clenching her fists tightly to keep them from trembling, Nora followed her into the house, feeling as if she were throwing herself to the sharks.

It was a pretty good analogy, all things considered.

"Esme, Emmett, Rosalie and Jasper are out hunting," Alice explained to her with an impish grin on her face.

Nora eyed her. "Your doing, I suppose?"

"It's best to speak to those who are willing to listen," she replied.

Nora read between the lines easily enough: she had already figured that Rosalie and Jasper did not support the decision to tell her. It frightened her but she also knew, it wasn't something she could change. She didn't know about the other two. She knew next to nothing about the Emmett fellow, and Esme, for all her warmth, may very well have hated her just as much as the others right now.

She didn't dwell on it for too long, petrifying as the thought of them was. They weren't why she was there.

"Carlisle is in the living room," Alice continued.

Sure enough, seated calmly on the familiar sofa was the blonde haired doctor. He smiled kindly at her. The kind smile and the reminder that he was a doctor, a healer of sick _humans_ , like her brother had been, made her relax slightly. She was starting to think her hopes weren't completely insane.

"I must admit I'm curious to know why you are here, Nora. I was told Edward had spoken to you about his departure," he said gently.

"Yeah, he did. I'm here because he only got as far as explaining that you, uh, feed from animals."

"And you wish to know more?" Carlisle guessed. He frowned, looking reluctant. "I'm afraid many of my children are angry at your _current_ knowledge. I don't know how I can share more without increasing that anger. It wouldn't be beneficial to your safety, or ours, to reveal more than is necessary."

Nora nodded, a little irritated by his misunderstanding of her intentions. Not that he could help it. She'd gotten used to Edward understanding her straight away, she realised.

"You don't get it - I'm not here because I'm some kind of vampire fangirl," she said with a disgusted frown at the thought. "I would love to just ignore _all_ of this. Trust me, I didn't want to know in the first place. But, obviously, I _do_ know. And all I got from Edward was a brief self-loathing couple of sentences about how he's a blood lusting monster. I know there's more to it than that so I was hoping you could elaborate. All I need the information for is to confirm something for myself."

"What would that be?" This was Alice. She looked genuinely curious, clearly not having seen this in her vision. Perhaps it had only been brief enough to show Nora's arrival that morning.

She swallowed hard but didn't back down. She was surprised she managed to remain confident, despite her fear. It was clear they were wondering the same thing, judging by the intrigued expressions plastered across both of their faces.

It was simple, really. If Nora wanted to stick to her decision to try and truly understand Edward then that meant she couldn't remain too terrified to talk to his vampire family.

Plus, she hadn't slept at all and her exhaustion was making her reckless.

She looked each of them in the eye, determined, terrified, and maybe just a little bit brave for once.

"That I'm not insane for telling him he isn't a monster," she said softly. "For _believing_ he isn't one."

It was all she wanted.

Yeah, the thought of vampires terrified her.

But the thought of her friend overwhelmed that fear.

She was getting two intense stares at her response and if she wasn't mistaken, both Cullen's were just a little bit happy.

With a heavy exhale, she continued calmly, "Basically, I want you to fill me in on what exactly vampires are capable of so I can prove to both Edward and myself that I'm right. He might terrify me but he's also my friend, so I need to know, honestly, if being friends with a vampire is even possible for a human. And that means understanding what a vampire actually is. I think it _is_ possible. I mean, I've managed it thus far. So, um, I'd really appreciate your help."

There was a heavy silence following her request. It was incredibly surreal, Nora found, that she had just revealed a great deal about herself to these terrifying strangers, even in so few words. They were intelligent beings, after all. They could read between the lines far better than she would ever be able to.

She had meant what she said though. She wanted them to prove her hopes were right.

That Edward, for all he was dangerous in his abilities, was not dangerous in his intentions.

And the fact that she had done it, managed to swallow the fear and talk calmly with Alice and Carlisle, the gentlest, most accepting of all of the vampires she'd spoken to, she thought that maybe her hopes _were_ right.

She was capable of doing this.

"I will help you, Nora," said Carlisle eventually. She thought she might have upped his respect for her, just a tad, with the awesome speech.

Alice gave her an approving smile but suddenly grew still, her stare distant.

She snapped out of it in seconds.

"I'm going to head out to join them," she revealed, "or Jasper will end up returning sooner than expected."

Had Nora just witnessed one of the infamous visions in action?

Apparently, yes, and in the time it took for a second to stretch into the next, Alice had already disappeared from view. She had moved so fast that Nora hadn't even seen a blur. It was as if they simply zapped out of existence.

"Well," she almost laughed, disbelieving, "I guess super speed would be the first thing then."

With a smirk, Carlisle nodded.

Before he could speak, Nora made sure to explain, "I don't want anything other than general facts though. Like, just vampire traits. Pale skin, super speed, crazy good looks. Those kind of things. Nothing personal."

Carlisle frowned, looking confused at her decision. "You don't wish to understand in more depth? It would certainly help confirm your theory which I must say, I agree with entirely."

Nora shook her head. "No, it's not that," she admitted. "It's just – well, I don't want you to reveal things Edward didn't want to tell me in the first place. He's already been forced to tell me this much, I can't do that to him. I'm _his_ friend, at the end of the day. And you're his family, not mine. It's not my business unless he wants it to be."

The Cullen leader scrutinised her. It was unnerving but she'd expected it, so she simply stared straight back at him.

"I understand," he said with a small smile. "It's a commendable decision."

She thought of Lola, and how easy it would be to out her friend. She would finally be free of the shackles currently holding her back, Nora knew, and could begin living her life how she wanted. But Nora also knew she could never take that decision from her friend. It wasn't her decision to make, after all.

This was the same thing.

"Nah," she said dismissively, "it's just what friends do."

Carlisle seemed to disagree but said nothing. Settling down, he began to explain vampires in more depth. Steadily, he began to inform Nora of the typical vampire traits, revealing more of this strange, new world she'd been brought into.

She listed it all in her mind.

The implausible strength, the ability to walk in daylight but the restriction of sunlight due to reasons left unsaid, the inability to age or sleep or even _die_ – it was overwhelming.

Carlisle told her it was actually forbidden to reveal their true natures to humans at all, and as Nora listened to him, she wondered how much Edward must respect her to break such a rule, just to appease her. It was unbelievable.

But, as Nora grew to understand it all in more depth, she found herself thinking of vampirism as less of a horror story, and more of a condition. It was something they couldn't help. And part of Nora found herself feeling sorry for them.

They were frozen beings; never growing, never changing, eternal.

She thought of Edward, applying these traits, this concept of an unchanged eternity, and found it explained the undeniable loneliness that emanated from him. It reminded her that for all her own wish for friendship, Edward wanted it just as much, if not more. He had been alone for a long time.

Eventually, Carlisle fell silent and Nora offered him thanks before leaving, her mind blown. She had to get to school anyway, not that she would be paying any real attention to her lessons.

Guiltily, she felt a little relieved at Edward's absence. It meant that, even if she was attempting to come to terms with everything, she could do so at her own pace.

She knew, deep down, that she was still scared. The concept of bloodlust loomed over her. The idea of immortality was unbelievable. Her fear hadn't faded or faltered just because of who Edward was. She was too logical for that and logic dictated that she should be afraid.

She would always be wary. But now that she knew more, she was starting to understand.

And, in her opinion, the absence of Edward would help her develop that understanding. She could continue to slowly, properly process what Carlisle had told her.

She needed time. It sounded ridiculously clichéd, but time really was one of the prominent factors in her decision.

Hopefully, when Edward returned, she could face him, still scared, but also still capable of being his friend.


	22. Chapter 22

**_Extremely_** **.** ** _Long_** **. But important! Author's note.**

 **I feel weird knowing that, from here on out, Nora actually** ** _knows_** **. It sounds stupid but it's like she's my baby or something – I love writing her. And Jon and Lola and Mr Miller. They're all like my flawed, idiotic children or something. How creepy is** ** _that_** **?**

 **I am so grateful for your reviews – and seriously, the positive comments I've gotten about my writing and just about Nora herself are incredible. You have no idea how thrilled I am that you guys like her and the story so far.**

 **I'm glad you don't find the other, non-Twilight parts of the story boring. Originally, I had sort of worried that my focus on Nora's family and friends and general life outside of the Cullen's wouldn't be appreciated, so this response lets me breathe easier. 'Cos I actually enjoy writing Nora's friendship with Lola/Derek and her relationship with Jon just as much as her interaction with Edward and other canon characters.**

 **By the way, the review from** ** _Beyonceismyspiritanimal_** **made my day – I'm proud and shocked that you've chosen to place Nora above Beyoncé. So thank you.**

 **And also, hey Germany! I got a review saying hello, so I thought I'd return the favour.**

 **I promise Edward will be back in action soon, but as you know by now, I like to keep it realistic, so Nora's still processing and dealing with shit. Plus, I wanted her relationship with the Cullen's to develop outside of Edward. In the Saga, I noticed a lot of Alice's friendship with Bella was sort of controlled by him, or at least, he was often present in their interactions. Nora would want to begin her tentative friendship – or at this point, acquaintanceship - with Alice outside of Edward, so I hope you guys understand their interactions.**

 **Their conversation is something I'd thought a lot about… because, as pointed out in reviews, some of the Cullen's** ** _hated_** **the idea of her knowing. Obviously. So, this is my explanation of why Alice is okay with it, as well as why the Cullen's haven't just killed her or left town. I'm not going to reveal** ** _everything_** **– although Alice hints at where I see things going. In a vague, many-possible-endings way. Ha. I'm totally evil.**

 **Also, some people might find Bella's conversation with Nora strange considering** ** _my_** **clear distaste for her, but honestly, I'm not going to make her a harpy. She's got good qualities too, and Nora's not going to ignore that. At this point, she has no reason to dislike her other than a bit of annoyance at how meek she is.**

 **And finally, just wanted to say that their conversation is a reference to the prequel to** ** _Driftwood_** **– it's on my profile, called** ** _Tidal Wave_** **, to conform to the emotional sea theme I've got going – so try and spot it if you've read it.**

 **Enjoooooy.**

 **Oh, and review as well, please. Bye!**

* * *

 **22**

 **Tusk,** ** _Fleetwood Mac_**

* * *

"Are you alright?" Asked a soft voice to her left.

Nora turned to see Isabella – no, Bella – giving her a concerned look. She peered closer at the girl. Apparently, the concern was genuine. Man, she was compassionate, feeling concern for a stranger. Way more than Nora could ever try to be.

Because it was sincere, Nora decided to offer the girl a smile and lied, "Yeah, just stressed about work. Maths sucks."

Well, not quite a lie. Maths really did suck. But that wasn't the reason she'd been staring into space all lesson. Or for the past week.

But her response clearly struck a chord with Bella, judging by the serious nod in agreement.

"You too, huh?" Nora asked dryly, craving an interruption from the mundanity of pretending to understand the numbers in her textbook.

Diplomatically, Bella replied, "I prefer books to numbers."

Huh. Nora raised an eyebrow, a little curious to see the girl behind all the blushing. Part of her wanted to keep pushing Bella until a real personality shone through.

"What's your favourite book?"

"Wuthering Heights."

It was said without hesitation and Bella, as usual, blushed in embarrassment.

"Interesting choice. Most people hate the characters," Nora mused. They weren't the most lovable sods ever written. And Nora wasn't a big fan of romance novels, even well written ones.

Bella hummed, "I think I like the inevitability of their love. That they love each other despite their flaws."

It was a nice sentiment; idealistic certainly, but Nora found it stuck with her for some reason. Before she could look into it, Bella asked, "What's yours?"

Apparently, the girl didn't like to be under the spotlight for long. Nora could relate. _Completely._

"To Kill a Mockingbird," she said, keeping the sadness from escaping into her voice.

She hadn't read the book in a long time. Not since… well, the worst day of her life, actually. She didn't think she'd ever be able to read the book again without remembering that prolonged, horrifying moment of realising her life, as she'd known it, was irrevocably changed. Broken.

"I've read it," Bella nodded along, seeming more involved in the conversation now that it had switched to books. "It's a beautiful story."

Interested despite herself, Nora leaned forward, "What do you mean?"

Cue another blush. Was she embarrassed to show her intelligence?

But Bella held her own, answering, "Atticus stands up for what he believes in even though it's against the social norm. He judges people based on their character, rather than their skin colour. It's admirable."

"Yeah, I agree," Nora said distractedly. Before she could say anything else, Mr Varner reprimanded them for talking in class, and she was able to escape back to her mind.

She barely responded to Bella's friendlier, less nervous goodbye. Lunch was much the same, spent in a preoccupied daze.

 _He looks at their character_. Bella was right, and Nora was brought back to her original thoughts. It was exactly what she was attempting to do with Edward. Focus on his character, not his… condition.

Now she just had to actually manage to _do_ that.

"Nora."

She started, blinking at Lola's unimpressed face. Then, she winced, "I did it again, didn't I?"

Her friend huffed, tucking a loose blonde strand of hair behind her ear, "Yes. Honestly, you look like an asylum escapee. _Stop_ zoning out."

"Right. Sorry," she coughed. "What were you saying?"

"Nothing," Lola said, widening her eyes and subtly gesturing to the crowded table beside them. Nora stopped upon seeing the group of students close enough to hear their conversation.

It seemed Lola thought the same, quickly beginning to pack up and asking, "Do you want to go back to that beach tonight? I can drive us – my father gave me the car today."

She heard the unsaid: _We can talk properly there_.

So, Nora agreed and departed for her Mandarin lesson. She enjoyed the beach, when she wasn't having breakdowns, and Lola deserved to speak about her problems to someone. Nora was pretty sure she was the only person who knew of her sexuality, so she'd be as accommodating as she could possibly be. As long as it didn't get too emotional, because that would probably send her running for the hills.

Then again, this was Lola. Emotional overloads weren't really her scene either.

Shaking her head, she headed into her English Literature class, feeling something shift in her stomach at the sight of Edward's, once again, empty chair.

She hadn't seen him since Tuesday, and she was beginning to wonder how long he would actually be 'away' for. She didn't even know where he was or why he had left, she hadn't wanted to.

But now, she wanted to see him. Talk to him. Possibly scream at the sight of him.

The process of understanding vampirism, she found, was difficult when the reason for her stubborn resolve to _be_ understanding wasn't anywhere to be seen. If she wanted to judge him by his character, he needed to get his arse back to Forks.

By the end of the day, she was knackered. With a heavy sigh, Nora waltzed into Mr Miller's classroom. He wasn't there yet – she knew he usually had free periods the hour before their sessions – so she sat down and silently set to work.

Or at least, she attempted to. It was like with Lola all over again. Ugh.

She had been right when she'd thought she wouldn't be able to go through school properly after talking with Carlisle. Despite not having seen pretty hide nor perfect hair of the Cullen family – which was probably due to some serious avoidance on her part - she _still_ couldn't concentrate on school.

Even now, she was more disgusted than usual with the idea of studying. When she was around Jon it was easier to focus because she liked talking to him, but in school, this hellish place of learning, she didn't like it enough to bother. Every minute she sat at her desk, her mind continued to think on Carlisle's words. He hadn't told her everything, as she'd requested, but he did tell her more than she'd suspected.

One piece of information stuck out to her. She remembered his description of how they became vampires.

 _'_ _It isn't something we are born with. It's a transformation – from human to vampire. But, in my own opinion, it is a cruel fate. I have only been able to perform such an act when the only other option was death. It's how Edward became one of us. Despite my guilt, my sin, my selfishness… I cannot ever regret it. He's my son, now.'_

"Brennan."

Nora knew, deep down, that if it were Jon… well she'd do the same as Carlisle. She would do anything to save him from death. It was a selfish, horrifying thought but she loved him too much. She had always said she was a selfish person and she supposed that this was proof of it.

"Brennan."

But at the same time, she despised the very idea of Jon being a vampire. It just wasn't right. They were humans – mortal, breakable humans – and she had never had, and still didn't have, any qualms with that. She liked her humanity. It made her who she was. Made Jon who _he_ was.

" _Nora_!"

She snapped her head up to see Derek's impatient, exasperated face standing before her desk. God, not a-bloody-gain. How long had he been calling her name?

She winced, offering him a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Not really with it today."

That was an understatement.

"I noticed," he said wryly before glancing at her empty workbook. She really was a crappy student. He sighed heavily before saying, "I wouldn't mind going home early, you know."

Nora smiled in amusement. "That could be arranged," she drawled, following his lead and packing her stuff back into her satchel.

It weirded her out, how well Mr Miller could understand her. He had easily seen that she wouldn't be up to working properly in their session, without hesitation. She smiled a little.

He was a good guy.

The car park was empty by the time she got out, everyone having left during her attempted Mandarin lesson. But then she caught sight of one person standing gracefully beside her trusty bike.

One very short and terrifying person she had avoided up until now.

"I feel like we should make this our thing, the whole 'confrontation in the car park' deal. We seem to do it often enough," Nora mused.

Alice laughed, a high trilling sound that sounded like she was partly made up of pure birdsong. It was sort of creepy.

"So… what's up?" She didn't mean to sigh but she really couldn't help it. She had managed to avoid all of Edward's family up until now. "I figured we were mutually avoiding each other."

The vampire sighed, her face grim all of a sudden. It was insane, the pace at which her mood changed. It reminded Nora of Edward's ability to revert so quickly to Edward _Sullen_. Though now she knew _why_ he was always so broody.

"I needed to talk to you. To explain something," the pixie stated.

Nora almost winced. If it were another dramatically life-changing secret, she could deal with not hearing it.

"Okay, what is it?" She asked, wary and stiff.

"I know you were scared, knowing that my family was so angry," Alice hummed, melancholy. "After all, Edward betrayed us when he told you of our true nature. Originally, they thought we should deal with the problem you seem to have created, while Edward wasn't there to protect you."

She wasn't a moron. _Deal_ sounded a hell of a lot like _murder_.

"Okay," Nora's hands clenched, but she swallowed her initial reaction to leave and live life on the run with her brother, _Bonnie and Clyde_ style. She didn't run away because there was obviously a reason Alice was telling her this. "Are you going to? Is this the part where you shove me into the boot of your car?"

Alice looked offended, which was rich considering what she'd just told her. "Of course not," she seethed. Then she smiled, "I told them of my vision. They will not harm you. I wanted to tell you, so you could relax a little. You've seemed so worried this week."

Nora stared at her. Worried was one word for how she had been feeling lately. And the fact that Alice _had_ seen her this week freaked her out.

Ignoring that though, she pressed on, "You're vision about…?"

Her eyes were suddenly aged, and Nora could practically see the wiser, supernatural being hidden behind all the cheer. "It showed that you are _supposed_ to know of us. You will grow closer to us – to all our family. It's meant to happen this way."

"What do you mean?" She couldn't imagine why the hell she was 'supposed' to know all this. If anything, it seemed like an epic fuck-up on Edward's part. Clearly, a lot of the Cullen's agreed with her. "Why are you suddenly so okay with me growing closer to you guys if it's forbidden?"

The pixie turned her eyes to gaze at the distant trees bordering the school.

"The future continues to change," she responded eventually, vague and mysterious as ever, "But one thing is certain and unchangeable: Edward revealing our true nature to you will bring only good things."

"That explains literally nothing," she fumed, pursing her lips. "What did you actually _see_ in your visions?"

The look she received was almost scolding, "Knowing the future is not always wise, Nora. You need to make your own decisions without knowing what they will bring, or you will live in a constant state of paranoia. It would be futile, anyway. It's certain, one way or another."

"What d'you _mean_?" she groaned. The girl was too confusing.

"Let me ask you a question: if I told you that you were going to break a cup in your house tonight, what would you do?"

"Uh," she frowned, bewildered, "not go near any cups?"

"Exactly," Alice nodded as if the illogical conversation made perfect sense, "but then, your knowledge of the future has already altered your judgment, and in your decision to not accept a cup of coffee offered to you by your brother, _he_ may have ended up dropping it instinctively, assuming you were going to hold it. The future still happened. The cup still broke."

"So basically, even if I knew what was going to happen, it'd just happen anyway in a different way."

"Yes."

She shook her head. "I don't get it though. You said 'one way or another'; so my future _isn't_ definite."

Her brain hurt as she tried to figure it all out. Apparently, the psychic just _loved_ to speak in good old fashioned riddles.

"There are several different visions of your future at the moment," Alice shrugged, "but in all of them, you are happy. As is Edward, and the rest of my family. Regardless of what happens exactly, it always results in happiness. _That_ is what's definite."

Nora, unusually, stuttered out nervously, "Really?"

Alice's golden eyes twinkled at her like Dumbledore. "Yes," she offered another grin. "I must be going. I'm glad I've soothed some of your worries, Nora. I look forward to getting to know you better."

And with that, she was gone. Nora was still wide eyed.

Happiness. It was almost like a forgotten concept to Nora. She could laugh again, yes. She smiled a lot more and sometimes, they were genuine.

But proper, constant happiness? A happiness that wasn't tinged with guilt? Even now, so many months on, into another year, Nora's happiness was diluted with the thought that she should never be capable of such emotions when her father was gone forever.

 _'_ _Regardless of what happens exactly, it always results in happiness.'_

She craved it, badly. She hated how hollow she was, how grief was always grating against her skin, constantly bubbling underneath the surface, waiting to erupt.

So, she didn't doubt Alice's words. Instead, she wished with all her might that they were true.

She remembered her New Year's resolution to let herself be happy. Edward had told her that he had resolved to do the same.

Maybe one day, they would both be able to succeed at it.

Maybe one day, she wouldn't be partially lying when she told her brother she was okay.

Maybe one day, she could tell him she was _happy_. And mean it.

All because of her friendship with Edward Cullen, the vampire.

She sighed, feeling the growing acceptance at that thought. Lola was right; she really _was_ crazy.


	23. Chapter 23

**Right. So Edward is finally back. I hope you can figure out where exactly this is in the Twilight timeline but be warned – things are obviously changing behind the scenes. Nora doesn't know about Bella's awesome smell or cool mind shield and in return, Edward is less intrigued by Bella and more vaguely worried about her ability/smell, especially now he's told his human pal about his vampirism. He is NOT going to fancy her. But that doesn't mean I'm going to shove her to the side – she's an important part of the plot.**

 **Please enjoy. I hope you enjoy the burgeoning hints of the romance to come – I'm keeping it slow but it's bubbling under the surface. Plus, we only see Nora's POV so Christ knows what Edward really considers her to be in regards to himself.**

 **But he deffo isn't an obsessive, stalking lunatic with her; that's gross.**

 **REVIEW PLEASE.**

* * *

 **23**

 **Best Friend,** ** _Foster the People_**

* * *

"I made you a coffee."

A cup hovered in her vision, waiting to be grabbed. Instinctively she reached for it but, with Alice's creepy premonitions last week still lingering in her mind, Nora suddenly pulled back in disbelief that it might actually be happening. Before she could correct her reaction, Jon loosened his hold on it, and well… Alice was right.

It fell to the ground, ceramic pieces shattering in every direction and the splash of hot coffee staining their beige carpet.

"Ah," Jon said, wincing at the stain, "bloody clumsy fingers."

He headed for the kitchen to grab a dustpan and brush. If they even owned one.

"Shit," Nora cursed, staring at the remains of the mug. It was a 'Happy Birthday' one Jon had been gifted from one of his university pals. Nothing special but – Jesus.

Was her future really already made for her?

Did she get a choice?

Or was this just a fucking strange coincidence?

It made her a little queasy. One thing was for sure though; Nora did _not_ want to know what exactly Alice had foreseen. This was a sign of what future knowledge could do. The paranoia, the overthinking… she didn't need that in her life. She had enough crap to deal with.

She couldn't go all Professor Trelawney – that witch was mental.

A-a-and, that was a sign that she needed to stop thinking about the creepy pixie.

Her morning appropriately bizarre, Nora probably should have guessed that Monday was going to be a weird kind of day. She had spent her Friday night talking to Lola – or more like listening to her rant about anything and everything. It had been nice. Refreshingly normal.

But now she was back in school and apparently, so was Edward.

She wasn't sure what she had thought would happen when she finally saw Edward again.

Something dramatic, surely. It seemed she always had these moments in settings worthy of a soap opera, after all. So far, she'd had solemn talks in her house, confrontations in empty car parks and terrifying realisations in the school corridor. Always alone, always in ringing, empty silence.

Instead, it was snowing when she was finally confronted with the sight of her vampire friend. A week had passed since the supernatural had entered Nora's life, and there he was, as pristine and photo-shopped as ever, sitting in the back of her English Literature class.

It was kind of a let-down, really. She had at least wanted it to be stormy weather – lightning, slicing rain, bitter winds… the whole nine dramatic yards. Not _snow_. Snow was pretty and delicate and inspired kids to lob mushy chunks of it at Nora as she ran from her bike to the school building.

Part of her had also thought he'd look drastically different. Maybe resemble a corpse more or at least still have those terrifying, black eyes.

Or wear a fancy cape instead of a turtleneck sweater.

But of course, her life never went to plan. It loved to fuck with her.

And that was why, when she cautiously sat down in her usual seat, she didn't feel as scared as she thought she would. She just felt… relieved. Relieved that Edward – whether he meant to or not – was not going to suddenly transform into the beastly image she'd pictured. He was still the same pompous git she'd reluctantly befriended back in September.

So she turned, a bit warily, and said, "You're back."

Good start, Nora. Stating the obvious.

His lips twitched but he remained expressionless. "I am," he said slowly, as if he were just as cautious as she was.

She guessed that that wasn't exactly unlikely. The guy probably expected her to stake him.

She expected herself to _want_ to. At least a little bit.

It was a weak conversation at best. But when had she ever been comfortable with all this honest, emotional crap anyway? She doubted that would change just because she'd discovered she was actually friends with Dracula.

They both knew they needed to talk – _when didn't they?_ – And no amount of small chit chat would hide that. But, like she'd said, it was an English class.

English Literature was not the place for dramatic confrontations.

So, she murmured, "Talk at lunch?"

She wouldn't have seen the ever-so-slight nod of his head if she hadn't been staring at him, waiting for him to agree.

Diligently, because if she wanted to be a writer she sort of had to concentrate on studying for once, she began listening to the rambling lecture their teacher was giving. It was monotonous and boring and she'd never concentrated more – and definitely never been more aware of the cold, undead presence beside her.

By the time the bell rang she was drumming her fingers agitatedly against the table, probably annoying the shit out of the students seated at the desk beside them.

Silently, the pair of them left the classroom and Nora followed Edward's tall, stiff body outside into the freezing cold, snow blanketed seating area shoved at the back of the school – it was deserted, everyone else seeking the warmth of the cafeteria or continuing snowball fights in the car park.

They stood, neither wanting to sit on the slightly frozen bench; Nora fidgeting, Edward completely still. It was funny how obvious it was to her now – his stillness was anything but human.

She sighed, watching the crisp wisps of her breath drift before her.

"Your heart is racing," Edward eventually murmured, sadly.

That didn't surprise her. Well, the response itself creeped her out massively, but her heart racing wasn't shocking. She was still fearful. Still cautious. And, more than slightly nervous to see him again.

So she responded dryly, "That makes one of us."

She bet her heart was probably still racing away like a sodding horse. He smiled weakly.

Clearly, she was going to have to take the lead in this dreadful, long-awaited conversation.

She didn't know what to say.

She settled on informing him, "I spoke to Carlisle about vampires."

Edward seemed to know this but didn't look happy about it, judging by the clench of his jaw. "He mentioned that," he commented, almost wryly. Slowly, he leaned forward into her personal space. "I thought you would avoid us like a reasonable human, but obviously you choose to continue perplexing me," he muttered, more to himself than anything.

"Well," she shrugged, "I'm trying this new thing called friendship. It means accepting your friend's flaws, even if they make you want to wet yourself in fear."

"You call it a flaw, I call it life threatening," he retorted angrily, scowling in disapproval.

Dick.

"It was my decision, Edward," she said sharply. "I know what you're like – you would have brooded your way around it all without giving me all the facts. I _needed_ all of them."

"And what facts were you told?" He demanded. "That I could crush you with my bare hands? That I thirst for your blood? Is that not _enough_?" Edward paused, internally struggling with something before, looking more pained than ever, he whispered, "Do you know _why_ I left?"

Mutely, Nora shook her head. Her hands were trembling.

"The new student, Isabella Swan," he began, shaken. "Her blood attracts me more than any other. I almost _killed_ her, Nora. That is why. Because the monster inside of me almost _succeeded_."

She stared at him, terrified and unsure and a whole bunch of crappy emotions. "Why didn't you?" She asked quietly.

Edward frowned, "What?"

"Why didn't you kill her?" She elaborated. How she managed to say the sentence without throwing up, she had no idea.

And of course, Edward just laughed. It was a manic, heartbroken sound that chilled her more than the snow falling around them.

"Because I don't want to be a monster," he admitted. "Because I thought of how afraid you were of me, upon seeing my true self – I never want to see you look at me with such fear, Nora, even if I do deserve it entirely."

She swallowed hard. This was it. It felt pivotal, for some reason, like everything paused, awaiting her decision.

For a moment, it was as if she were the psychic one – she could see the two options ahead of her with crystal clarity:

She could either give in to her fear as Edward believed she should or continue down this strange, new path with him. Look at him and see a vampire – an ageless immortal who endangered her every second he was around her – or look at him and see… her friend.

He had wanted to kill Bella Swan. It stuck in her mind like glue. He hadn't but the want was there – so what did she do?

The realisation hit. She blinked, surprised, before responding softly, "No, you don't. You're…" she swallowed hard. She could do this. She could. "You're my best friend, Edward. That means that – that I have to have faith that you are a good person. I'm still scared. You scare the shit out of me. But, I can't do it. I know it doesn't make sense and I sound like a tool but I can't just avoid you. I can't see you as a monster because – because what kind of monster becomes the best friend of a grieving, sarcastic moron like me? What kind of a monster could give someone a CD on Christmas with the intention of cheering them up? I might be a jokey idiot but I know that's why you gave me it."

"A selfish one," he said hoarsely, his stare burning into her. He had remained frozen at her confession, not a muscle twitching.

"Maybe," she agreed. "But if that's the case then I'm selfish too, or I'd do the reasonable thing here and run away."

She sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead before asking something she needed to know, "What are you going to do about Bella?"

Because that was petrifying. The thought that he truly wanted to drink her blood, more than any other human's. She needed to know he was strong enough not to or she couldn't do this.

It kept coming down to control.

He pursed his lips, looking ashamed. "I don't know. But I will _not_ harm her," he promised.

It was a tentative promise at best, but Nora accepted it. There wasn't much else she could do. If he thought he wouldn't, well, he knew his control better than she did. She had already made up her mind about running away from this.

She studied his face, solemn and pale. He looked so accepting of her possible hatred that she forgot about it for a moment. Instead of running, she stepped forward like the reckless moron she was, closer to this deadly predator that terrified her and made her smile, and slowly – watching his startled, disbelieving eyes – wrapped her arms around him.

"I trust you," she whispered into his chest. "I know I shouldn't but I do."

She trembled a little, but hugged him tighter. He was taut and cold and his true nature had never been more obvious, but she continued to hug him until he, at a snail's pace, embraced her in return, gently, barely.

She sniffed, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his shoulder.

"If I ever catch you eyeing up my neck though," she murmured, or more like she croaked. "I will go _Buffy_ on your arse."

He sputtered out a pained sort of laugh. "Of course. I'd expect nothing less."

Nora swallowed, thinking over his confession. Over all of it.

"We have to be equals, though," she said. "I know we aren't, physically, but if this is going to work, you have to let me be on the same standing as you, okay?"

His arms tightened slightly, no longer hugging her like she was some delicate piece of glass, but properly, like she was his friend. "I will. I promise."

Eventually, she pulled away, smiling shakily.

"Nora," he said, softly.

She arched an eyebrow in query, rubbing a melted snowflake from her nose. Edward was giving her that indecipherable look again. His words were calm and steady.

"You asked me, last week, why I told you the truth and… I don't think I answered as entirely as I should have. It is because your friendship means more to me than anything. Because you deserved my honesty," he admitted, a reluctant smile playing around his lips. He glanced away from her, his voice distant, "I've come to look upon the world and see that it can be bright even in my own, perpetual darkness because of you. Because you exist within it. Never forget your importance to me."

She stared at him, dumbstruck. She wasn't quite sure what to say. Sometimes, being around Edward made her feel… warm. But she couldn't articulate in the same depth as he managed to. Part of her was ashamed for it. She wished she could just say stuff like that instead of always trying to swerve to avoid it.

But the other part told her she was being smart. That she was only seventeen, emotionally weak right now, and maybe this was something she could allow to quietly evolve rather than forcing herself to be something she wasn't.

"Just prepare yourself for an overload of vampire related jokes, alright, pretty boy?" She teased, breathlessly.

She had managed to tell him he was her best friend and for now, that was enough.

He understood and simply nodded, smiling properly. "I live in fear of it."

In the distant, the bell rang, snapping them out of the strange bubble they seemed to have formed. It was like everything else came rushing back, reminding Nora that she was in school, existing with others beyond Edward.

"Come on," she insisted, turning to leave, "You might be an icicle already but _I'm_ not."

She was still scared. He was, too, apparently.

But somehow, they were stronger. She could feel it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Okay, I really hope you like this. I've seen so many OC's that are simply placed in Bella's position of key events but I don't want to do that. I want Nora to have an impact on these events, when she's there too. So, with that in mind, please don't send me hate for this chapter.** ** _I_** **think Nora's actions suit her character.**

 **Please enjoy, review, and don't scream at me! I thought over and over about what's coming up, and finally settled on what I thought was pretty decent. Plus, I know this is weird, but in the story, people accept that Edward – plausibly – could have got Bella out of the way had he been near her.**

 **Plus – females are heroes too. We don't need men to save us, be them heroic immortals or not. It's International Women's Day people and this chapter celebrates that!**

 **Man, I've totally given away what's gonna happen. Ah well.**

 ** _With that in mind_** **, here you go!**

* * *

 **24**

 **Drive My Car,** ** _The Beatles_**

* * *

Ice.

It was everywhere, dotted in between leftover snow. Black ice was deadlier than a shotgun it seemed, judging by Nora's continued slipping left and right.

Stupidly, she had decided to cycle instead of walk to school. She would have gotten a lift – at one mile an hour – from Jon, but he had work so, nervously, she had attempted the treacherous paths to school, shivering in her massive duffle coat and overabundance of knitwear. It was _freezing_.

After almost skidding into a tree, she had decided to push her bike rather than kill herself sitting on it.

So there she was, ambling along carefully, shivering slightly from how freezing it was, when a massive hunk of a truck pulled up slowly beside her. Confused, wondering whether this was where she got kidnapped by creepy truckers, Nora peered in and to her surprise, Bella Swan was awkwardly smiling at her.

"Uh, I saw you and thought I could give you a lift," she mumbled, attempting a smile.

Nora had no such qualms, grinning at her. "You are my _saviour_! I thought I was going to turn into a snowman."

She still wasn't sure what to think of Bella. The girl was unbelievably shy but Nora had been wrong about her being meek. They had a tentative acquaintanceship in their Math's class due to being sat together and slowly, Bella had softened out of her silent shell with Nora's perseverance – which had a lot to do with hating Maths more than anything else.

So, she had realised Bella was a self-conscious girl. She was intelligent when she spoke but immediately blushed or stammered when she did, as if embarrassed to speak her mind. Nora, knowing this, tended to try and get Bella's opinion more often, asking her about books because it was all they really had in common. Bella was stubborn, firm in her opinion which Nora admired, having enjoyed their continued debate about _Romeo and Juliet_ – Bella loved it, Nora despised it.

They weren't exactly friends… but Nora had made it her mission to try and break Bella of this strange inferiority complex the girl seemed to have developed.

Shuffling forward, she pointed sheepishly at her bike.

"Oh, you can shove it in the truck bed if you want," Bella said quietly.

Thanking her again, Nora did so, heaving the bike up and safely into the truck. Stroking it once, she quickly jumped into the passenger seat and buckled up.

Bella restarted the car and began a slow trail to school. They kept to their silence, neither particularly bothered by it as neither had much to say and gently, Bella pulled into a spot.

As she unbuckled herself, Nora offered the girl another smile, "Thanks for the lift. It was bloody freezing out there. I love snow and everything; but ice is another story."

"No problem," Bella said, getting out. "I hate the cold, too. And the snow, actually."

She was shuddering at the very _thought_. Well, she definitely shouldn't have told Nora that.

Because as soon as they hopped out of the car, she appeared around the truck at Bella's side, evil grin in place and an icy snowball in hand.

Bella shuffled backwards, almost away from the truck and put her hands up as Nora followed.

"No, wait – "

Bam. Right in the face.

Even with a murderous glare, Nora almost wet herself at Bella's reaction.

She sniffed, wiping her eyes and glanced around absently, spotting Edward with Alice and Jasper. She waved slightly, still a bit uncomfortable. He offered a smile. Alice full on beamed. Jasper remained expressionless. If a bit more glare-y. Wonderful.

She was about to turn around, when a sound interrupted her movements.

A loud, screeching sound.

 _Brakes._

Her eyes spotted the source of it instantly. A minivan was swerving, out of control, in her exact direction.

 _Shit._

It happened quickly and slowly, if that were possible. Nora thought, if she was in a movie, they'd have done it all in super slow motion with epic, suspenseful music.

Her mind – for once – worked on overtime as she figured out several things:

She was probably going to get crushed by a car if she didn't move the fuck out of the way.

Bella was standing stock still, most likely from shock.

Edward was staring in horror and looked like he was going to run at her, his face determined.

She couldn't let him do that.

She thought of Jon, who would be broken if she died here.

And with that thought, she thought of her father. The good man that he was. The good human that inspired her to try and be the same.

She knew what her dad would do. What she was going to do.

Still facing Edward, she screamed, "No!"

To anyone else, it would be a cry of terror at her fate – but she knew that Edward understood. It was an order. _No, don't try and save me._ Had she not known of his speed, she wouldn't have screamed it but she knew he could get to her in time, and most definitely _would_ have, utterly destroying his human cover.

Apparently Alice understood this too, as she grabbed Edward's arms tightly, Jasper doing the same.

All of this happened within seconds and with a sharp turn, Nora faced Isabella Swan.

Nora burst forward, giving herself some momentum, petrified and adrenaline-filled, and tackled Bella's frozen body, sending the pair of them flying into the ground a good distance away. Bella hit the floor with a loud thud, almost smacking her head on the ice. Nora cried out in pain as her ankle twisted from the fall, feeling a distinct twinge telling her that it was definitely injured.

The minivan continued its path, and Nora realised they were out of range of it, but not, possibly, the aftermath of the definite crash that was about to happen. So, as the collision almost began, she started moving again, forcing herself on.

"For fuck's sake," she cursed, not giving into her fear because now really was _not_ the time. "Come _on_ Bambi!"

Ignoring the incredible pain in her leg, she did a weird half-crawl-half-drag, shoving Bella along with her as the girl seemed to wake up and aided Nora in her attempt.

Nora realised that she was very lucky that she'd jokingly thrown a snow ball at Bella – it had only forced them slightly to the left. Just slightly. But it was enough, combined with Nora's tackle and the pair of them dragging themselves a little.

It was enough to let them live.

And then the minivan hit and as Nora had expected, curled in such a way that they would have been killed regardless of the tackle had they not shuffled backwards.

The whole event had happened in the space of about ten seconds.

One second – figuring out they were going to die.

Two seconds – commanding Edward not to save her.

Five seconds – tackling Bella.

Seven seconds – dragging Bella and herself further.

Ten seconds – boom.

Together, injured and in pain, the two girls looked at the image before them.

Bella's truck was crushed. It must have been a sturdy fucking beast though because it wasn't completely destroyed - only mangled in the truck bed area, with the minivan's bonnet wrapped around the end of it.

Nora's bike was completely ruined, no doubt.

She had no idea if the driver was alive. The thought made her feel sick.

Then – the screaming began. People screaming in horror, screaming for Tyler, screaming for Nora and Bella. Some were just screaming to join in the collective terror.

Shocked, Bella and Nora just lay on the ice in silence. Neither of them had expected to live through that. Neither had expected to actually save themselves.

So, to try and snap them out of their silence, Nora slowly sat up, leaning heavily on her bruised arms, wincing at the throbbing pain of her leg. It wasn't broken but God _damn_ it hurt a lot.

"Don't take it personally, Bambi," she groaned, "but I'm _never_ accepting a lift off you again."

Bella was still wide eyed but remarkably calm considering they'd just escaped certain death. She turned, paler than usual, to face Nora with an incredulous expression.

Nora sighed, knowing why. "Trust me," she muttered, "it's better to joke about it right now, than start thinking about the fact we almost…" she trailed off, swallowing and lying back down next to the girl.

As people came rushing forward to help them, Bella whispered in a choked voice, "Thank you."

The next thing she knew, golden eyes filled her vision, blocking the image of the pale clouded sky. Very angry, very terrified, very worried golden eyes. He looked so incredibly relieved and unbearably concerned that she wasn't sure what to do.

"Hey, pretty boy," Nora decided to mumble, going for nonchalance but failing due to the crack of her voice. "I'd give you a hug but my leg has taken a day off."

He seemed to understand, better than anyone, her need to ignore what had just occurred. At least for a little while. It might be because her eyes were pleading with him not to do anything.

Instead of demanding to know how she was feeling or scolding her actions or just straight up embracing the crap out of her as he seemed to want to, Edward, her wonderful vampire pal, aimed a slightly forced smile at her.

"You'll do anything to get out of school, it seems," he muttered, pained but attempting normalcy.

She almost kissed him for it.

She obviously didn't, but as Edward's cold hands helped her into a sitting position once more, she chuckled, "Yeah, next time I'll just fake an illness."

He just shook his head, staring at her twisted leg lying flat before her.

They were lucky that was the only serious injury. Bella's possible concussion and Nora's sprained ankle.

With that thought, she shot her head up to the ruined car.

"Is Tyler okay?" She asked weakly, not sure she could handle the answer.

Immediately, possibly sensing her desperate need to know, Edward nodded. "He's obviously more injured than you but he's alive."

The relief was almost painful. Or that was just her leg. Thank God. No one had died, somehow. It seemed surreal.

Turning back to Bella, she noticed the girl was almost frozen. But, apparently not from shock or pain as Nora expected. The girl was staring unrelentingly at Edward, almost dazedly.

There was a slight possibility she'd drool if she continued gawking at him.

Oh dear lord.

Nora almost burst out laughing, but held it in, asking, "You didn't hit your head, did you?"

Stuttering, blushing, almost melting into a puddle of dazed goo, Bella turned to her and shook her head mutely.

"Huh," Nora said, withholding another laugh, her lips trembling with the effort, "your dazed expression says otherwise, Swan."

Abruptly, she remembered then that Bella was the girl who sent Edward into a spiralling need for blood. This situation of close proximity was most definitely not going to help. She looked at him as he frowned at her sprained ankle, and noticed the ever-so-slight tightening of his jaw. Was that why?

She didn't do it often, hating the very idea, but this was an exception. Focusing on him, feeling foolish, she thought, _Edward, are you okay with being here? Near her?_

For a moment she felt stupid, as he didn't answer. But then, he locked eyes with her and gave a small nod, an indecipherable look on his face. It almost seemed _fond_. Like she'd said something he hadn't expected, but liked nonetheless.

Maybe the pain was getting to her.

Wailing sirens suddenly filled the air. Who the hell had found the time to call a bloody ambulance? She knew they'd have to go to the hospital but still, that was ridiculously fast.

As more and more people began to swarm around them, buzzing with questions, Nora let Bella handle the PR. It was a little cruel, but she had something more important to do.

She tugged on Edward's arm until he caved to her request and sat next to her, letting her lean heavily against his cold side.

"Thank you," she whispered, not allowing anyone to overhear. Their closeness had gained some seriously odd looks. It was one thing to know they were friends – it was another, to see someone relax and actually _lean_ against a Cullen.

It seemed a bit weird to thank someone for _not_ running to save her, but it needed to be said for many reasons. Because it meant Edward trusted her enough, respected her enough, to let her make her own decisions regardless of how terrifying the circumstances. He had allowed her to save herself.

"I've never felt such fear before," he murmured just as quietly, his voice full of something she didn't really comprehend.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he shook his head, looking down at her, "you know, my family wants to thank you in return. I would have given away our true nature had you not stopped me from acting. Or more accurately, had your command not made Alice and Jasper hold me back."

She snorted, elbowing his side ineffectively. Figures. "Idiot."

He chuckled along with her, staying by her side even as the paramedics appeared.


	25. Chapter 25

**I have a question for you guys…**

 **Basically, I've already figured out the plot as far as** ** _I_** **see it should go, but I'd like to know what you'd actually like me to put in/change. I think it would be cool to see if any of you guess (although I obvs won't tell you).**

 **Do you want Nora to be a human always and forever, suddenly explode into a canine or transform into a bloodsucker? Or have her sarcastic 'I'm a witch' thought be a seriously freaky case of foreshadowing? (I've written which one I think the answer should be but would love your opinion).**

 **So… yeah. Things are happening. As you can tell, everything is happening quite differently. I'm glad you guys like the differences though.**

 **On that note, I got an inbox demanding to know why the hell Nora has semi-befriended Bella – it's a simple answer. Because Bella hasn't done anything for Nora to dislike her. They aren't friends really, because Nora is very outspoken and I don't think Bella would be too comfortable around her at this stage, but both girls have recognised that they share a love for books so they** ** _are_** **on good terms. It's like when you talk to someone you sit by in lessons, maybe say hi to them in the corridor, but not a lot else.**

 **That's not to say they're going to be best buds though. A lot of Bella's character – displayed in later events of the Saga – are things Nora dislikes or would call her out on. And, sneak spoiler, she definitely** ** _will_** **.**

 **But, like I said, Edward and Bella are different because their relationship is different. I'll reveal the development of that in this chapter a bit.**

 **Also, shout out to** ** _Seven Deadly_** **who reviewed** ** _Tidal Wave_** **– thank you so much firstly, I'm glad to have changed your opinion on OCs. I can't reveal what Jon will or will not discover, but it will be addressed. The relationship between Jon and Nora is too close for Nora to be fully okay with blowing him off like Bella does to Charlie.**

 **I've also tried to not make Nora an anti-Bella character in terms of her personality – I saw some of you were concerned: they** ** _do_** **share some traits. Bookworm tendencies, for one, as well as disliking telling people things – although Bella is more open/compassionate – and a bit of a stubborn streak. I didn't want her to just not do what Bella does for the sake of it, which is why things aren't dramatically different or why she hasn't really been fully embraced by the Cullen's. That's a Mary Sue move if ever there was one. It wouldn't make sense to the story.**

 **Anyhow, thanks for the reviews guys. I love all of ya.**

 **Enjoy! Long Author's Note for a long-ish chapter!**

* * *

 **25**

 ** _Underdog_** **, Kasabian**

* * *

Nora Brennan was not a clumsy person. She wasn't an unhealthy person. She wasn't even ill very often.

So how was it that in the span of a few months she had been in this hospital _twice_?

Everything had been chaotic so far; several students had cried and blubbered over the three 'survivors' and then Nora persevered through the pokes and prods of nurses. She'd even seen a bewildered Donald in her journey through Forks' medical team.

Her co-worker had laughed at her unimpressed face – she didn't appreciate the stretcher and neck brace, mainly because she knew she was injured on her leg and not her spine, having ploughed into Bella's body rather than the ground.

If anything, it was all slightly overwhelming, but she figured Forks didn't tend to get major accidents considering how tiny the place was, so any sign of something like this was cause for uproar of epic, exaggerated proportions.

Eventually, people settled down. Or were squeezed into the waiting room where they milled around like lost sheep. It was starting to resemble an episode of _ER_.

After an X-Ray and someone placing ice over the ankle, Nora was left to lie on a bed with it elevated before her, alongside a bloodied Tyler Crowley – who hadn't stopped apologising – and an annoyed Bella. Apparently the girl hated hospitals and hated attention even more. She clearly wasn't enjoying herself. In fact, she was currently pretending to be asleep.

Nora snorted but turned her head to face Tyler. His entire face was scraped from shattered glass and bandages covered his hair, as well as a sling on his left arm. She couldn't believe how lucky they'd been; no death. It felt good.

But it also really bloody hurt. Her leg continued to pulsate in pain, so she gave in to the need to be still, despite wanting to leave this place.

"How're you feeling?" She asked, trying for cheerful and ending up sounding fake.

He looked utterly miserable but fortunately answered her question rather than offering _another_ apology. "Okay – my mum's gonna freak though."

"Your mum's my boss," Nora commented. "She's nice."

He gave her a half-hearted grin, "Yeah, on days when I _don't_ crash the car. Or destroy someone else's. Or nearly kill two people."

"If it helps, I highly doubt Bella will sue you," she offered, smiling slightly. "And clearly you suck at murder, so the last one's sort of a dud. I might kick you when my ankle heals but that's about it. Standard revenge."

Tyler snickered, immediately stopping from the pain it caused, but remained amused and less desolate. Mission succeeded.

Of course, smug as a bug, Edward decided to stroll in at that exact moment.

"How's the ankle?" He asked her, nodding at Tyler and perching himself on the end of her bed.

Bella's eyes flew open and she ogled him slightly, flicking her eyes between Edward and Nora with what Nora thought could only be fascination. In fact, so was Tyler.

They took the whole 'Cullen's are freaky cult people' thing way too far.

"Oh you know, right as rain," Nora drawled. "I'm just lying like this for fun."

Edward studied her, "Pain makes you more sarcastic."

"It also makes me more violent. Don't push me, _Cullen_."

He smiled, "I would never push an injured person, _Brennan_."

She rolled her eyes with a scoff. Before she could reply, Carlisle swanned in – in a similarly graceful, pretentious manner as his similarly graceful, pretentious son. She smirked at Edward's narrowed eyes.

Carlisle examined Bella first, ignoring the keen, curious eyes on the girl. Nora wondered what he thought of the day so far. Had Edward told him he'd almost revealed his vampirism to a bunch of teenagers? What did he think of his son calmly sitting near the girl who smelled extra tasty?

Clearly hurting her ankle had made her far more blasé about the undead deal if her terrible mind-jokes were anything to go on.

Eventually, it was Nora's turn for treatment.

"The X-ray results show that you haven't fractured the bone," Carlisle revealed, glancing at her and occasionally at Bella who was still ogling Edward from afar. "But I'll need to examine it properly for ligament damage."

As he spoke, he began closing the curtain around her bed, blocking Bella and Tyler from view. Now it was just her, her vampire friend, and Dr. Acula.

She snorted, ignoring Edward's deadpan look. _Scrubs_ was awesome.

"Why're _you_ allowed in the circle of trust, pretty boy?"

"Moral support, of course," he offered with a twitch of his lips.

A cold hand suddenly touched her ankle causing her to yelp and returning her focus to the doctor. The pain actually _burned_ , as Carlisle began turning it gently, checking her reaction as well as figuring out the range of motion she now had.

"Son of a – "

"Definitely a mild sprain," he interrupted, setting it back carefully, "but luckily it should heal within a few weeks. As long as you don't walk on it."

He quickly picked up the bandages he had apparently brought with him and began carefully wrapping it. She withheld a wince, knowing Edward was looking at her.

Then again, he could read her mind. Sure enough, his lips were pursed in concern.

"For how long?" She asked, taking her mind off of him.

Carlisle smiled sympathetically, "At least a week, Miss Brennan."

Great. This is why you don't bodily tackle people on ice.

"Call me Nora," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "You've seen X-Rays of my ankle, Carlisle, I'd say we've bonded."

His low laugh was joined with Edward's.

"How long will it hurt like a bitch for?" She asked glumly.

He offered a smile but ruined it with his chuckle. "Possibly a month or longer. It depends on how much strain you put on it while it heals."

"Damn," she groaned, running a hand over it gently. It was slightly swollen and already she could make out the horrible purpled bruise peeking around the bandages now wrapped around it. "Will I need crutches?"

"Well, you can walk on it after a week but I recommend crutches until then. Just in case."

Ugh. _Fan_ -freaking- _tastic_.

"And you'll need to place ice on it for at least twenty minutes, three separate times, for today. Then, every four hours for the next two days. It will help reduce the swelling."

The frown on Nora's forehead continued to grow; how could an ankle sprain cause so much work? She practically knew the answer, but asked just in case, "Does that mean I miss school?"

"For the next week," Carlisle nodded, "it would be best."

She couldn't have stopped herself if she'd tried. Grinning, she offered her fist to Edward who, sceptically rolling his eyes like he was above such childish actions, gently fist bumped her.

Carlisle watched curiously, incredibly pleased and apparently, relieved that the pair of them were no longer so wary of one another; Edward because of the need for secrecy, Nora because of general terror.

He advised gently, "You may want to consider taking an Advil for the pain."

She stared at him. "What the hell is Advil?"

"Ibuprofen," Edward offered, ever the helpful fellow. "It's a brand name. Like Nurofen."

"Right," she nodded tiredly, "I knew that."

"Well, I'll get you the crutches in a moment but other than that, you're free to go. We tried contacting your brother but there was no answer," Carlisle commented, looking vaguely worried.

Nora quickly reassured him, "Its fine. He's just at work at the moment; I'll text him to let him know what went down."

Opening the curtain, Carlisle noticed Bella still seated and said, "You may leave as well, Miss Swan."

The girl observed him as if he were a bug under a microscope, before flitting her eyes to Edward and finally, to Nora. Nora offered her a jaunty salute.

"It was nice jumping out of the way of mini-vans with you," she grinned, struggling to sit up.

Carlisle finally headed over to help tend to Tyler, and Edward remained perched on her bed, even as Bella shakily stood, almost fell, and looked at Nora shyly.

"I better head out," she mumbled, blushing. A quick glance told her Edward had slightly stiffened. Bella, oblivious, gave her a small smile, "Thank you for saving me."

Nora brushed it off, feeling slightly guilty, "No worries. All in a morning's work."

"Char – my dad will probably want to speak to you," Bella admitted, "to say thanks, as well. He's like that."

Something clenched in her chest. Her dad. Her dad who was waiting anxiously in the waiting room. It hurt more than her ankle.

Nora smiled weakly, "Just tell him saving people is what pagan's do."

Bella gave her a weird look, "What?"

"He'll understand," she explained wryly, her heart not really in it.

The guilt remained, even as Bella slowly stumbled out of the room. Nora didn't like being told she had saved Bella because that wasn't really what happened. She had acted the way she knew her father would want her to. Nothing more.

Beside her, Edward said softly, "That still makes you an honourable person, Nora."

"Honourable," she repeated, tasting the word on her tongue. She didn't look at him.

The guilt didn't fade, but she felt slightly less melancholy and for now, that was enough.

"What're you going to do now?" She asked.

He gave her a frown as if her question was ridiculous. "Drive you home, obviously. How were you planning to leave, otherwise?"

Nora hadn't thought about it at all. Her bike was a wreck. Her ankle was more of a wreck. Her brother was in work.

Reluctantly, she said, "Okay, but I stand by my need to drive myself places when my ankle's healed."

He smirked but nodded.

Absently, she added, "Thanks, though."

Because he didn't have to do that. But Edward was a good person. He didn't even consider leaving her to figure out a way home. Bless him.

Eventually, Carlisle returned with the crutches and feeling ridiculous, Nora slowly stood, leaning heavily against them. Edward stood beside her, seemingly waiting for her to fall.

She rolled her eyes. "Have a little faith in me."

"I have the utmost faith in you," he replied, innocently.

"Riiight. Come on, let's blow this Popsicle stand."

After a brief, awkward discussion, Edward helped Nora deal with insurance and payment details. It exhausted her, especially because she was used to the free health service of Britain. And it felt like hours before she'd finished it all, the crutches beginning to dig painfully into her armpits.

But eventually, she managed to bid Carlisle farewell and silently, the pair of them left, avoiding the overabundance of students in the waiting room, and heading out into the icy cold car park. Edward's car, pristine and shining, awaited them. Just nearing the thing she felt haughty – at least now she knew why Edward always was.

"Need some help?" He asked, opening the passenger seat for her.

Nora just huffed in return, carefully seating herself and lifting her injured ankle in slowly.

Chuckling, Edward closed the door and sat himself in the driver's seat. He didn't make any attempt to drive away at first, and Nora didn't really mind. She was tired. Her ankle hurt. And the day had been strange to say the least.

But it didn't last too long. He broke the silence as soon as she'd finished texting her brother.

"Why did you tell me not to save you?" He asked so abruptly it was if the question had been boiling over in his mind.

She looked at him properly. He was tense, focused, and slightly upset.

"Because I didn't need you to," she said firmly. "I can handle myself. It would have been a pointless move on your part with disastrous consequences. Can you imagine if Bella had seen you?"

He swallowed, looking far away, "She suspects something."

Nora's head shot up to face him, " _What_?"

Edward nodded idly. "After we spoke at lunch time," he looked at her pointedly. Oh, there fun 'I'm scared of you but you're still my best bud' chat. "I decided to try talking to her, to make her seem more real in my mind. Not just a…" he didn't finish, but he didn't really need to. Involuntarily, she shivered. Luckily, Edward was too focused on his words to notice the action for once. "She asked why my eyes had changed colour."

All Nora could think were curses. She'd known Bella was clever but bloody hell. She was also, apparently, observant. Or, as many were, she had noticed the strange aura surrounding the Cullen's and that caused her to _become_ more observant. Nora was almost surprised no one had questioned them before.

And now, suddenly, two humans had. Jesus, they must be seriously paranoid in the Cullen household right about now. No wonder Jasper and Blondie glared at her so much.

"Well, did she actually think it was suspicious or was it a casual kind of notice?" She asked.

Weirdly, Edward blanched and looked beyond frustrated with her question. Teeth clenched, he gritted out, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?"

He turned to face her, studying her confused expression, and admitted, "I cannot read her mind."

That brought her mind to a rapid halt. She almost got mental whiplash. " _What_?"

He nodded grimly, "It's as if no one is there."

"I never thought I'd ask this question seriously but, is she," she struggled for the right word, "magical?"

For a moment, Edward just looked amused. "Magical?"

Nora couldn't help but smile back at him. "Shut up or I'll start calling you Lestat."

"Not Dracula?"

She smirked, "Nah, that's Carlisle."

Edward sighed, "Yes, I heard your jokes, terrible as they were."

"Dr. Acula. I can actually say that joke and mean it," she laughed. But, she eventually controlled herself and returned to the original point, " _Anyway_ – do you think she is?"

He seemed to have considered this in great detail – he probably had – but immediately shook his head. "No. She's definitely human."

"Should I trust you to be a good human detector?"

"Yes," he answered, a little offended.

In an attempt to appease him, she said quietly, "I really don't think you should worry. She's noticed you're weird, sure, but nothing else. Everyone thinks you're weird. It's nothing new."

He eyed her, looking slightly nervous. It was strange. "You figured it out," he pointed out. "Or at least you figured out enough that telling you became inevitable."

She just rolled her eyes, "You're my best friend. It's my duty to uncover your secrets."

He looked at her as she spoke, suddenly commenting, "I thought it might anger you."

Nora frowned. "That what would anger me?"

"That I cannot read her mind," he admitted, "I know you wish I couldn't read yours."

"Ah," she responded, understanding. It _was_ there. The jealous twinge. The envy of a closed mind. But she couldn't succumb to feeling that way; it was no one's fault, after all. "I'm learning to deal with it. As long as you don't read my daydreams. They're pretty focused on Jon Snow."

He replied wryly, "I did notice, yes."

"Speaking of _Game of Thrones_ , how goes the series? You finished it yet?" She asked, eager to change the subject to something less supernatural. Or more supernatural, if you thought about the series.

He smiled. "I haven't continued."

"What? Why the hell not? They're _awesome_ ," she gasped, even waving her hands for further proof of their awesomeness.

Edward, the ponce, just laughed at her disbelief. "I thought it was something we should do together."

Nora laughed. "That's really sweet. But only a crazy person would give up watching _Game of Thrones_ for a friend. It's blasphemy."

He didn't reply straight away, gazing at her, but eventually asked softly, "Would you like to watch it with me tonight? I can drive you home, afterwards."

It was said so tentatively that Nora wanted to take back all the glares and avoidance. She knew why he was suddenly so timid. It was because of her reaction to him. The true him, that is. But she stood by her original actions because they were fair and honest.

She wasn't scared of him anymore, not the shocked-petrified terror she had originally felt anyway. But the wariness remained, making her really think about it. His family would be there. All those immortal beings and one human. It sounded like a good premise for a new TV show.

Edward had wanted to save her life today, she reminded herself. He respected her wishes today. He was her friend, today and onwards.

So she came to a decision.

"Okay," she replied, offering a small smile. "You should probably start driving though. I'm starting to wonder whether you really do drive or if it's my imagination."

He glared at her but the smile gave him away.


	26. Chapter 26

**Side note: Does anyone want to read an Edward POV one shot of their first meeting? I sort of wrote one alongside the original so I could get his reactions realistic and all, so let me know if it interests you and I'll post one separately to this fanfiction.**

 **I was** ** _not_** **expecting so many people to want Nora to actually be a witch. Seriously. I hate to upset a lot of people, but I agree that it would be a bit OTT for Nora to be a witch – she's not super powered and I don't want her to be a Mary Sue, you know?**

 **But I won't tell you what** ** _actually_** **happens, 'm afraid, because I'm evil like that. But I understand what you guys are saying about Nora's innate humanity – I realise that, don't worry!**

 **However, I wanted to say thank you for recommending my story to other people – that's seriously awesome – and also, I've had people commenting on how they like the music tracks I leave at the top and yeah, I agree, they're sodding brilliant songs.**

 **So now make way for a little more Nora/Edward because obviously Nora's off school for a week – meaning loads of time for the two to chit chat and whatnot. I've taken liberties with Edward's past because we don't hear an awful lot about what he's experienced in the books, which sucks because he's lived through an entire century. The romance will build, probably slower than anyone could ever deal with, but let's face it, Nora would never just up and fall in love with him. That shit takes time. And time it will take!**

 **Here you go! Enjoy, mis amigos.**

* * *

 **Coffee and TV,** ** _Blur_**

 **26**

* * *

"I feel like you're trying to steal my hospital thunder," said Jon's tinny voice through the phone. "I get asthma and a month later, you get hit by a car. Attention seeking, is it?"

"I'm ever so sorry," said Nora, "but in my defence, it was Tyler who was the attention seeking one in this case. Besides, I jumped out of the way."

"Seems likely. Anyway, I'm glad I could call you – you have no idea how terrifying reading your text was! I have to go now; the boss is eyeing me. I'll be finished with work around nine. Do you want me to pick you up from your boyfriend's house on my way home?"

Nora groaned, trying in vain to ignore Edward's smirk, instead turning to look pointedly out of the car window. "That would be great," she gritted out, "Pick me up when you're ready."

"Will do," said Jon. There was a thoughtful silence and she wondered if Jon had hung up, when he said quietly, "I'm so glad you're okay, Nor."

She smiled sadly, not that he could see it. Edward could though and she felt his eyes on her. "Yeah," said Nora softly, "me too."

"Love you."

"Love you too. Text me when you're leaving work."

"Will do. Bye!"

"Bye, Jon."

They both hung up and she sat for a moment, thinking over her day. It had been stressful to say the least. Lola had bombarded her with snarky, underlying frantic, texts, demanding to know why word on the street was that her friend was almost road kill. After explaining and agreeing to Lola popping round in the week to spend time with her during her doctor-ordered confinement, she had answered the phone to her frantic brother, who had deemed her slightly vague text a death omen.

Nora wasn't sure how she was feeling. It was as if her emotions were in a washing machine, tumbling around each other in a perpetual cycle; nervous, happy, scared, curious. Over and over again.

It made sense, she supposed. This was quite a big deal. She was going to meet Edward's family – all of them, that is – for the first time since she'd found out the truth. She tapped her good leg agitatedly against the car floor, thinking about what would happen.

Surprisingly, Edward was more relaxed than she was, judging by his carefree expression.

Then again, that might be because he was enjoying driving her around for once. And man, did he drive fast. It reminded her of Jon's driving when he wanted to watch the final _Harry Potter_ film – insane, reckless and a little bit exciting.

"Fast enough?" She asked, laughing under her breath at his exhilarated expression. She hadn't realised he was such a car fanatic.

He hummed, quickly giving her a smirk, "Not quite; I'm usually faster."

"So many innuendoes, so little time."

"Witty as ever," he commented. He sighed mournfully, "I had hoped your recent injury would dampen your unique sense of humour."

"You set yourself up for it, Eddie," she said, turning up the music. It was a soothing classical piece – not Nora's go to choice, but she could see why he liked it. "Who is this?"

Edward smiled. "Debussy. This piece is called Clair de Lune."

"Is it your favourite?" She wondered, seeing his contented expression. It was the same look her dad had listening to _The Moody Blues_. It was nice to see it again from another music lover.

"It was my mother's favourite," he said softly. Then, glancing at her as if deciding whether or not to say it, he revealed lowly, "She was lucky enough to watch one of his concerts, with my father."

Nora looked at him. She knew enough of Debussy to realise he was old. Before her time.

She had always had the underlining question of how old Edward could be if he were immortal and it seemed he was finally going to answer her.

"Before you were born?" She asked quietly.

He continued to look at her. Part of Nora questioned how he could do so while driving but it seemed his reflexes were perfect, which wasn't much of a surprise. He was smugly impressive like that.

"No. The concert was a charity performance for the war in 1916. I was fifteen."

She breathed out slowly in shock. 1916. Almost one hundred years ago.

Edward continued talking in the soft tone of nostalgia, "Then, in 1918 we contracted Spanish Influenza. They both passed and of course, Carlisle found me there and…"

"Turned you," she finished.

"At my mother's request, yes," he nodded, solemn.

She raised her eyebrows silently.

"Carlisle believes my mother may have had a gift similar to my own," he said. "She knew Carlisle was different and begged him to save me."

Unsure what to say, she settled on asking, "Does that mean you had these gifts when you were human?"

It shocked her, the idea that someone like her could do such things. It didn't quite compute.

Humans with gifts were for comic books and awesome television, not the real world. Then again, she was sitting in a car with a vampire so she shouldn't be so dismissive.

For all she knew, everything existed. Maybe even Harry Potter. That would be _awesome_.

"Possibly. The theory is that the prominent parts of our personality transfer over and are enhanced by the venom."

"So you were… what? Really good at reading people?" She guessed.

Edward nodded, "Simply put, yes."

Nora shook her head. Her mind raced with the overload of new information. Edward, although physically seventeen, had lived through an entire _century_.

It made sense, now that she thought about it. His words, though polite, always seemed slightly formal. His attempts to be chivalrous oozed the sexist mind-set he would have been used to in his own time. It didn't make it okay, but she could vaguely, reluctantly understand it. He had lived through a _century_.

Frozen for a century. It was absolutely –

"Mental," she said aloud. The unease settled, replaced by something else. She turned to him, "Should I start calling you granddad?"

He groaned.

"Or OAP if you prefer," she offered, "it's snappier."

"I think your usual nicknames are cruel enough," he replied, smiling slightly. He seemed relieved at her jokes; it was a bit different than her usual response to all things vampire. But she wasn't going to go back on her promise to be his friend and that meant trying to understand what that meant. She wasn't going to run away every time he told her something.

Maybe she was growing up. Or she was likely just going crazy.

She laughed, sitting up properly in her seat, "So what's your favourite moment?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know," she shrugged, "In history. You've seen a lot obviously. And by the way, that's really unfair."

He arched an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Because," she stressed, "all _we_ get to do is learn about these really poignant, important moments in history, but we can never really experience them for ourselves. Not the ones you have, anyway." Nora sighed, thinking over things she could do, things she could see. She remembered her dad reminiscing over his favourite childhood experiences and an example sprung to mind: "Even simple things like, I don't know… getting to watch Queen perform at Live Aid. I would have loved it. Two years before I was born, though. Dad always said I was born in the wrong musical decade."

Edward smiled fondly at her. It was his 'you're like a clapping seal' smile. She glared back.

"Yes. In fact, despite my," he frowned, "distaste for the time, I can imagine you living in the rock and roll era of the sixties and seventies quite easily." He offered her a grin, but thought over her words properly. "As for major historical events – you must remember that they might not have felt as poignant or important to the people experiencing them as they do to students looking back with the added benefit of hindsight."

She scoffed. She understood what he meant but that couldn't always be the case could it?

"Yeah, I'm sure Martin Luther King's 'I Have a Dream' speech was unbecomingly boring and unimportant for those who listened to it at the time," said Nora jokingly.

Edward remained silent. She looked at him expectantly before it dawned on her.

She was tempted to hit him but that would probably endanger her too considering he was the driver. "You were there?!"

He chuckled, nodding. "Yes, though I was hidden in the shade of the trees, of course. I couldn't bring myself to miss it. It was extraordinary. You could almost feel progress in the air."

"Did you get properly involved in the Civil Rights movement?" She asked curiously.

"I did what I could. I was restricted due to the sun, but I managed to help out where possible. It was an inspirational time. Men and women would come together, even the poorest of them, and stand tall, trying to fight for justice. The finest examples of humanity overcoming those that represented the very worst of it."

There was a passionate gleam in his eyes and as he spoke, Nora could picture him there trying to help, acting as an unofficial observer of these great landmarks in time.

She smiled back at him. "Could you ever tell?" She asked softly. "When it was a big moment in history, I mean. I always imagined it would be obvious. But, I've probably already experienced moments in history myself, and I haven't even realised."

He hesitated. "With some events, yes. Especially war. That is never forgotten."

His voice had darkened, but his honesty was endearing. However, it lightened as he added, "As for the Civil Rights Movement, I simply hoped it would succeed. And evidently, it did. It's such a different time, now. Freer than ever before."

She scrunched her nose. "It's still happening though. Racism doesn't seem like it'll _ever_ fade. It's one of the things I hate the most," she admitted. "It makes me literally seethe, I can't stand it! I once punched a girl in Burger King for calling the cashier a, well, you can guess. It was back in London," she sighed dreamily, "It felt like a punch of liberation."

He abruptly laughed, leaning further into the steering wheel. "It's disturbingly easy to imagine you that angry," he said, eyeing her.

"What? She deserved it – I'm not usually a violent person but – "

"Nora," Edward interrupted her well-thought out, intelligent defence with an annoyingly amused laugh.

"What?"

"We're here," he said, nodding his head to the pretty, clean structure of his house.

So caught up in their conversation, she'd barely registered the car had stopped or that they had parked.

She winced. "Do you reckon they heard me say I punched someone in Burger King?"

He smiled. She groaned. Damn.

What a wonderful first impression – she wasn't counting the other ones because she didn't know the real Cullen's then, just their spy identities.

She was already terrified enough going into a house of vampires, she didn't need the added stress of looking like some kind of maverick activist.

"Ready?"

She nodded, "Sure."

She even sort of meant it.

Of course, then she had to attempt getting out of the car with a sprained ankle and crutches she doubted she'd ever get used to. It was a lot more difficult than she'd imagined and she gave up, slumping sideways in the car seat and staring balefully at the mocking porch steps she would have to climb.

Edward appeared beside her, looking down at her face in thought. "I could carry you," he offered.

She considered it. Usually, her answer would be a firm hell no, but her bruised arms were achingly tired, her leg pulsed with pain and she knew she'd probably keel over in any attempt at walking alone.

"Okay," she said, and no, she was _definitely_ not pouting, "but none of that bridal style crap. Can you give me a piggy back, please? At least that way I can pretend you're a pack mule or a slave or something."

Flatly, he said, "Of course."

Then came the tricky manoeuvring of actually climbing onto Edward's back. She managed it eventually, narrowly avoiding smacking her leg against the door and her head against the roof. It was all very inelegant and amusing judging by the vibrations of Edward's chuckle.

"I wouldn't laugh," she warned as he began walking slowly to the front door, crutches in hand, "I'm in a prime spot for messing up your hair."

That shut him up quickly.

By this point, Edward had reached the front door and it opened quicker than she could blink.

But not by Edward.

Alice stood, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and offering Nora a rather disturbing grin.

"Hello Nora," she grinned, even adding a fast wave. "I saw you would be coming over. It'll be nice to spend time with you outside the school parking lot."

"Yeah," Nora agreed, gesturing at her bandaged leg with one hand, the other in a stranglehold around Edward's cold neck. "I'm learning to hate that place."

She giggled, "Everyone is settled in the living room."

"Are they going to give an intervention or are they secret _Game of Thrones_ fans?" She asked, tiredly.

Her reply was a very ambiguous grin.

Great.

She wasn't sure she could handle an overload of questions and/or glares from The Swiss Family Vampire.


	27. Chapter 27

**Ok. I am (finally) updating _Driftwood_. And it's longer to make up for such a long absence of any updates. My excuse is exams, trying to sort out the end of another university year, and work. But, alas, here it is! I feel like everyone's waited so long for it that it might be a bit of a let-down. I'm sort of nervous about it.**

 **Because, I have to be honest, this was the hardest chapter I've written so far.**

 **It's incredibly difficult to write the Cullen family. Mainly, I suppose, because I find them rather… unfinished in Meyer's novels. There isn't too much there to grapple with – just a few horrific memories and their reactions to events surrounding Bella. So, if they do seem a little out of character, I am sorry! I just think, given that this is a Cullen family influenced by Nora's existence, that these reactions are the correct ones for _this_ _fiction_. Not for the Twilight novel. In fact, their reactions would probably be completely different in the Twilight novel because there's no Nora in that plot whatsoever. **

**Anyway, relationships wise, its slow going. I want to start building on Alice/Nora friendship as well as on the Nora/Edward situation, but the other Cullen's are still all but strangers to her.**

 **Enough rambling from me though, please enjoy this chapter!**

 **I also wanted to let you know – I've updated _Tidal Wave_ to have different perspectives (Alice, Jon, Lola and eventually Edward, too) so please read it if you have the chance!**

 **Thanks, guys. Thanks for all your reviews – they are awesome, as always.**

* * *

 **27**

 **I Come In Please, _Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros_**

* * *

She exhaled slowly, measuring every second. Ever-so-slightly, she leaned her forehead against Edward's neck. Currently, she was still heaved onto his back like a mutated ginger koala, the injured leg stuck out like a mannequin limb.

"How bad do you reckon this'll go? On a scale of one being okay and ten being me running away screaming?" she asked, only partly joking.

Seriously. It was a genuine concern.

"It will be fine, Nora," murmured Edward, his hands gripping her own slightly tighter. "Trust me."

Of course I do, she wanted to say, but remained silent. He would hear her either way.

"But I'd say a solid six," he continued casually, trying to ease her nerves.

She pointedly mussed up his hair but still relaxed, however marginally.

Nora could see, logically, that being nervous was ridiculous. For one, she had already met the Cullen's and… _survived_. Perhaps not all of them at once, but she had managed just fine before, hadn't she?

But logic had no real place when the ever-present fear of these strange _Others_ engulfed her thought process.

Ignoring it, she settled for faking poise.

"Let's go," she muttered, trying to straighten her spine despite being on Edward's back. Sprained ankle or no, she would be confident, God damn it. "Mush!"

Edward snorted but did as he was told. Ahead of them, Alice skipped cheerily into the room, as if glacial atmospheres were perfectly comfortable experiences for her. Nora, once again, silently thanked the manic pixie for tactfully ignoring her fretting moments ago.

Once they entered the room she felt her mind race, trying to both extinguish the flames of fear in her and force her into a logical mind-set.

For all intents and purposes, Nora was not a fearful person. Nor was she particularly afraid to speak her mind, as proven many, many times; in fact, most would argue she was an opinionated loud mouth without an off switch.

She swatted Edward's hair again when he sniggered. Nosy bastard.

But, surreal as it may have felt, being faced with four sets of laser-focused eyes was unnerving even for her. Though that had more to do with who exactly was staring at her. In this case, the eyes belonged to four vampires, all sat in Edward's living room, staring at her with unabashed interest. Oddly, it reminded Nora of the Mona Lisa: the eyes followed you wherever you went. Only in this case, it was real – debatably – live people.

She had thought she would be a little less terrified, as she'd gotten used to Edward and even sitting in front of Alice and Carlisle she'd been reasonably okay.

But this was different. Three of these vampires, she was sure, wanted her gone from their lives and were fully capable of doing whatever would make that happen. Including, you know, _sucking her blood_.

Really, she should have been expecting her reaction to the scene she walked in on. But even now, knowing what she did of the Cullen's, Nora continued to be surprised at her own fear.

Because it was all just so _pristine_. Uncomfortably so. It amazed her how blind she had been to ever think these beings were human when they were so blatantly otherworldly. And it wasn't their beauty; it was the utter stillness and unending silence, only interrupted by her own breathing. A lesser person would be embarrassed to be the only being making any noise but Nora was too bewildered by their lack of it.

It was as if they were paused, sitting perfectly motionless, displaying no fidgeting or tired muscles. It was aweing and completely terrifying to witness and made Nora wonder just how much Edward had to act around her if she was able to feel comfortable around him.

Even now, the feeling of his body contracting with false breaths, reminded her that he was doing just that – acting. For her benefit, obviously. He could probably hear for himself the slow build of fear bubbling beneath her train of thought.

Only four of the Cullen's were waiting for them in the seating area; four sets of interested eyes examining Nora from her position koala-clinging to Edward's back. Hm. She should probably get down.

"Oi," she whispered to him, pointlessly all things considered. "Let me down, mule."

The big one – Emmett – chortled at her words, his face a big sun of overzealous amusement.

Amused at _her_ , she realised wryly, the funny human entering their midst.

Dear God, she was the token human.

Alongside him was the glaring blonde, Rosalie. The more she sneered at Nora the more Nora compared her to Lola on her grumpy days. It was an uncanny resemblance and gave her some courage.

Only a little – she _was_ in a den of vampires, after all. Was it called a den? A clan?

A murder of vampires? Like a murder of crows? It suited them more, she thought, borderline hysterically.

Any dwindling courage her black humour had created soon disappeared completely at the blank face of Jasper. He stood stoically in the corner, a vigilant observer. Alice, upon entering, happily skipped over to stand beside him. It was funny how her sudden appearance seemed to chafe on his otherwise icy exterior. As if she deflated some of his overwhelming constipation.

And then there was Esme. The kind, terrifyingly motherly one.

It felt awful to label her so starkly, but, to Nora, Esme might as well have had the middle name 'Mum'.

While she made these cursory, cautious calculations, Edward was slowly lowering her onto the opposite sofa to face the, with Alice, five of them with her injured leg stuck out awkwardly in front of her, crutches on the floor. He gracefully sat himself beside her, offering a small smile of what she wanted to say was encouragement but could very well be his cruel amusement at her deer-in-the-headlights thoughts.

Swallowing painfully, Nora smiled back. Or grimaced at least.

Luckily – or unluckily – the stifling silence soon ended as Esme approached her, a prettily decorated mug in hand, with that same kind smile placed on her face. Exactly the same as the one she'd worn on their first meeting. It made Nora squirm slightly. Somehow, this one vampire made her feel even more uncomfortable than the glares or blank faces; something about the sincerity in her expression made her shudder.

It was an overload of maternal emotion.

"I made you a coffee," said Esme, handing it to her, "Edward mentioned it's your favourite drink."

"Oh," she blinked, "Yeah, he'd be right. Thanks."

It wasn't your average coffee, she discovered, but a fancy-pants latte. She sipped the perfectly made drink, closing her eyes in bliss and almost embarrassing herself with a happy sigh which she quickly held in. It was glorious.

Opening her eyes, she found every single vampire, still and silent, staring at her in curiosity.

"Okay, that's a little creepy," said Nora, reeling back slightly. They sure knew how to settle her nerves.

Beside her, Edward chuckled. "I suppose we aren't used to being ourselves around humans," he commented, ignoring the intrigue in his family's faces at the easily spoken words. Nora figured it was a bit startling to see just how at ease their friendship was – especially considering her initial reaction to finding out. But then again, they'd both grown a lot closer since then. Alice, she noticed, looked particularly pleased. In fact, she looked downright smug, like the cat who got the canary.

Or vampire who got the human, Nora thought, drinking the super-latte. Was she becoming even more cynical? It was as if upon noting her fear of these beings, her humour decided to adapt and make fun of the horrifying truths of them.

Weird.

Shaking her head, Nora eventually replied, "I think you've always been like this to an extent. Even when I first met you there was something clearly different about you." She shrugged. "I just thought you were incredibly uptight."

Oddly, that was what seemed to break the ice. Emmett broke out in guffaws and, for the first time, spoke to her directly rather than his previous observations about her that made her feel like the penguin to his David Attenborough.

"I like you," he said, "You're an odd human."

She couldn't help her response. Sass was like a safety net. "Well, you're obviously an odd vampire. I thought Eddie's brooding was a species thing and then I met you and your constant laughter, _Jolly Green_."

Emmett seemed to find the nickname a treasure judging by his delighted expression as he mouthed it. Though, she probably shouldn't have supplied her crude rendition of Edward's name. The exasperated look her best friend was giving her suggested she had inadvertently supplied ideal blackmail material.

Served him right for forcing her into this meeting/intervention.

The tension seemed to settle under the joking, allowing her to offer another thankful smile at Esme.

"Thanks for this," she said again, a little more genuinely this time, as she gestured to her drink.

The vampire only smiled gently at her, returning to her perch. "It's lovely to see you again, Nora," she said softly, her face suddenly taking on a concerned look, "although I'm sorry to hear about your injury."

Nora waved a hand dismissively. "No worries. It's only a sprain," she smiled wanly. "Carlisle fixed it up for me."

"Ah, yes. I'm glad to hear it. He should be home in an hour or so."

Goodie. Another vampire to make small talk with.

Screw it, Nora hated small talk more than terrifying conversation. Even the joking had been her version of stalling, but this was a talk long overdue. Better to rip off the plaster at this point.

So she sighed and said to the room at large, "I figured you wanted to talk to me about… stuff."

Eloquent, she thought with a wince. But it was the best she could offer. She absolutely despised this situation.

A brush of cold pressed against her fingertips. She glanced down to see Edward's hand, lain beside her own in the gap between them on the sofa. He wasn't holding her hand, but he had shifted ever so slightly to touch his fingertips to hers.

She smiled, not looking at him. Edward was supporting her in his own subtle way, without her even asking him. Without even realising she needed it.

Gently, she covered his hand with her own for a moment, squeezing it, before moving it back to settle beside him.

This time, it was Alice that spoke. Or rather, chirped. "We just wanted to thank you for stopping Edward, Nora. You saved our family from revealing our true nature."

Uncomfortably, Nora fidgeted with the mug handle. Pretty ceramic. "Well, you're the ones that actually held him back," she dismissed, "I'd say it was equal effort."

"Nonetheless," said Jasper stiffly, looking like he'd eaten a sour lemon, "you didn't have to risk yourself, knowing Edward could have saved you. It was very…" Alice, grinning manically, jabbed him in the ribs, "…good of you."

His face was a picture of mulishness. Nora withheld a smirk.

"The way you tackled the Swan girl was awesome," guffawed Emmett with a delighted grin.

Of course, then Rosalie – also known as Lola 2.0 – graced Nora with her delightful presence. "Not that that excuses Edward's idiocy in revealing our family's secrets to you," she all but sneered.

It was odd to look at Rosalie. She looked so perfect, the ideal American beauty, and yet her cold disdain made far more of a lasting impression than any good looks.

Not for the first time, Nora contemplated the strange 'beauty' of the Cullen's. Beauty was, in Nora's opinion, incredibly subjective. It was influenced entirely by character.

The most beautiful person in the world could easily be seen as the ugliest if they were cruel enough.

Alice, awesome as ever, rebuffed the blonde with eerie sweetness. "But that's something we've already dealt with so there's little reason to bring it up again now."

Nora was reminded of Alice's chilling words to her in the car park only last week. She had mentioned that the Cullen's had had a family meeting of sorts about Nora discovering their undead alter egos. About that elusive 'happy' future for Nora and these beings sitting before her.

Was that really only a week ago? Her life, since moving here, had become some sort of whirlwind.

Floundering for what she could possibly say in response, she settled on, "Right."

"Anyway," interrupted Edward smoothly and bloody hell, Nora almost kissed him for it, "Nora didn't come here to be interrogated."

He might as well have had a neon sign with 'Piss Off' written on it. His expectant stare seemed to do the trick though.

"He's right. How rude of us." Like a drill sergeant, Esme, whose hawk eyes were currently boring into Edward and Nora's closely resting hands, shot up and barked, "Come on. Shoo!"

Nora couldn't even describe how amusing it was to watch vampires get literally shooed out of a room by a tiny, newspaper wielding mother.

Alice left with a skip and a wink, quickly followed by Jasper. Rosalie stalked out without even looking in their direction and Emmett – offering Nora a thumbs up for some reason – bounded out too, with Esme leaving last.

The tense living room suddenly became an awful lot calmer. Nora, relieved, watched Edward head over to put _Game of Thrones_ on.

"Thanks," she said, scratching her neck. "Your family is a bit daunting."

He chuckled. "Yes, I have noticed that over the years." He eyed her as he walked back over. "You handled it well, you know. Though your thoughts were quite amusing."

"I think my sarcasm becomes stronger in the face of vampires," she admitted. Stretching slightly, she winced. "My leg is killing me."

Edward sat down and tentatively placed one cool hand on her ankle. Nora re-adjusted so her ankle was on his lap and her back leaning against the armrest of the sofa.

"Better?" He asked.

"If all I had to do was tackle someone for a foot rub, I would've done it sooner," she muttered, smirking at him.

He gave her a deadpan look. The usual 'you're an idiot' look. Cleverly ignoring her, he instead asked, "Do you want some Advil? Carlisle said to take it if you're in pain."

Nora considered it. "I'm fine for now. You're like a giant ice pack, anyway. I'll take some Ibuprofen when I get home. Pretty sure we're stocked up on it."

"Hm," said Edward, disapproval evident in his pursed lips.

"Don't pout, pretty boy," she laughed. "I can handle a little sprain. Now shut up and watch the TV, okay?"

Rolling his eyes, Edward agreed. Together, they sat watching episode after episode. Nora forgot about all the dramatics of the day, or the subsequent 'meet the family' situation she'd been flung into. Being there, with Edward, doing nothing but watching television, was perfect.

But, it wasn't long before Alice silently appeared in the room, startling the crap out of Nora.

"Jesus," she cursed. "Have you ever considered wearing a bell?"

Grinning and ignoring her question, Alice asked, "Can I watch too? I've heard it's quite good and Jasper's busy writing a History essay."

Edward seemed reluctant but Nora just shrugged. If there was one thing she would never do, it was deprive someone of the gift of _Game of Thrones_.

"Yeah, sure," she said nonchalantly, ignoring Edward's unimpressed glare.

 _Why not?_ She asked him, mentally. It still creeped her out that he could hear her, but it did come in handy occasionally.

He shook his head and mouthed, _Wait and see_.

If that wasn't ominous, she didn't know what was.

However, only twenty minutes in, she discovered why watching the series with Alice was a truly terrible idea. They were watching, as normal as two vampires and a human can watch _Game of Thrones_ , when Alice zoned out momentarily and decided to ruin Nora's entire life with one sentence.

"Oh, so _that's_ who Jon Snow really is."

"What?!"

What followed was some expert pillow throwing which the evil psychic gracefully dodged as Nora demanded to be told, to not be told, for Alice to spill, for Alice not to spill, and so on and so forth.

"Tell me! No wait – don't. I don't want to know. Oh who am I kidding, of course I sodding do! _TINKERBELL_!"

"My lips are sealed," sang the evil imp.

Nora harrumphed, turning to Edward.

He looked knowing. Too knowing.

"You know, too," she accused, narrowing her eyes at his smug, smug face.

His eyes widened innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"

The Cullen siblings were pure evil, Nora concluded, deciding to whack him with a pillow. Being a good sport, Edward did not dodge it and allowed the pillow to properly ruffle his hair up. His carefully gelled quiff now looked like a bent cow's lick instead.

She took that as her only petty win in the conversation.

"Fine," Nora grumbled. "Don't tell me. I'll find out eventually!"

Edward, the bastard, just laughed. It sounded like a maniacal cackle to Nora's ears. She just indulged in how silly he looked with fluffed up hair.

Behind them, an amused voice asked, "What exactly is going on here?"

The trio turned to see Carlisle – Esme beside him – looking like he was withholding a laugh at Edward's hair. Nora didn't blame him. The pillow had made it look ridiculous.

"Alice was demonstrating that she's capable of being an evil genius," Nora said, giving the girl an annoyed glare. She received a tinkling laugh in return.

Carlisle just nodded as if that was perfectly normal. It probably was in this household.

She glanced outside, noticing for the first time how dark it had become. How long had she been sat on the sofa? She suddenly felt the ache of stiff limbs from not moving.

Ugh.

"How're you feeling now, Nora?" asked Carlisle, genuine concern in his eyes. He and Esme standing together was like trying to look directly at the sun from all the kindness radiating off the pair. They were so bright and nice. It was almost creepy.

"Dandy," she said, trying to lower the sarcasm and failing. "Seriously though, thanks for all your help earlier."

He brushed her gratitude off easily. "It's my job."

She smiled. Carlisle Cullen was an extraordinarily good person, it seemed. An unusual occurrence.

However, before she could say more, her phone beeped. It was a message from Jon:

 _I'm outside your bf's house. Stop snogging and get out here, yeah?_

 _J x_

One day, she thought, Jon was going to get a punch to the face.

"It's Jon," she said aloud, catching Edward's eye. She jerked her head towards the front door. "He's waiting outside for me."

"Ah," said Edward. He walked over and calmly grabbed her crutches, letting her rest her hands on his shoulders as she manoeuvred herself upright again.

"Remember to take medicine," he reminded her, placing the crutches beneath her armpits. She pressed her weight down and re-arranged herself into the appropriate standing position.

"Yes, sir," she attempted to salute but almost ended up unbalancing herself.

"We'll see you soon, Nora," said Esme, seeming sad at her departure.

"Definitely," Nora grinned, offering a nod after realising she couldn't really wave without potentially knocking over a nearby lamp.

A cold pair of arms locked around her briefly and suddenly, Alice was jumping before her. "Bye Nora!" she enthused. "I'll see you in school next week! Try not to injure yourself further."

"Thanks Alice," she said dryly. "I'll try."

With another goodbye to Carlisle, the other Cullen's hidden within the giant house somewhere, Edward and Nora walked to the front door together. Before he opened it though, Edward turned to her.

"What's up?" she asked.

He looked down at her silently, his expression thoughtful. It looked as if he were contemplating something.

Suddenly, with an ease Nora would never be able to manage, Edward lowered his face to hers, looked at her, properly, smiling slightly at her bewildered expression, and softly pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Thank you," he murmured, "for today. But please don't force me to let your life be at risk again."

Nora felt her ears heat up. "No promises," she mumbled, swallowing a lump in her throat. She coughed and smiled at him properly. "Today was fun. The end bit, I mean. Not so much the car crash or, you know," she shook the crutches slightly for emphasis.

"It was," said Edward, looking at her properly. It was that same look of complete focus, where his attention was entirely on her. Sometimes, his look made Nora feel incredibly safe and other times, like now, it made her feel incredibly vulnerable. It was as if it created something; something more tangible that lingered in the air between them. Whatever it was, she ignored it in favour of heading to the door again.

"I'll visit you tomorrow," he promised eventually, opening the door for her.

In the gloomy shadows of the dark, Jon's car lights glared up at them. His window wound down and they both listened to her brother shout, "Do you need a hand getting in, Nor?"

"No, thanks," she shouted back.

She turned to Edward again. He was already looking at her.

"I'll see you then," she said quietly. It was as if they had to speak in lower tones to one another for some reason.

"Goodnight, Nora," said Edward.

He was smiling at her. A different one. A relaxed, contented sort of smile. She returned it, without thinking.


	28. Chapter 28

**I have no idea why that update thing happened the other day! Sorry for any confusion!**

 **But thank you for the reviews - here's the next one.**

 **(I wrote it when I was absolutely knackered. Hopefully it doesn't show.)**

 **Tiredness proven: thank you, _Nahannah_ , for pointing out I wrote coco poops. Jesus, that's embarrassing. **

* * *

**28**

 **Bohemian Like You,** ** _The Dandy Warhols_**

* * *

"Ok, I've got one. Would you rather be able to speak every language or play every musical instrument in the world? Whichever one you pick, you wouldn't be able to do the other. So you could only speak English or you'd be unable to play anything."

"I would prefer to… play every instrument."

"Really?"

"Language is certainly important but for me, playing and composing music on the piano is not just a passion. It's an escape. An emotional release, if you will. I couldn't give that up."

She hummed. "That makes sense, I suppose. Scoot over, would you? I keep falling off the edge of the pillow."

Edward shuffled obediently. Slowly, Nora heaved herself over, making sure not to accidentally jerk her leg. Though she no longer required the ice pack treatment, her ankle still absolutely killed if she jolted it too quickly. The crutches were painstaking but necessary, and as such, given her general lack of movement, Jon had decided to make her time at home more fun.

Which explained why Edward and Nora were currently in Jon's Fabulous Blanket Fort – a term her brother wanted copyrighted. After realising Nora had to attempt moving with crutches or sit really still with ice on her leg all day, he had created a blanket fort in her bedroom to improve her mood. So, the pair of friends were sat in a large, multi-coloured tent of sorts with fairy lights glowing prettily around them and large, cushy pillows stuffed into every corner. It was very magical and Nora had given Jon the last cookie from a packet in gratitude.

"What about you?" asked Edward, drumming his fingers absently along to the music playing from her record collection.

"Language," said Nora instantly. "I like listening to music enough that it would make up for not playing an instrument but I'd like to know languages so I could properly explore the world and different cultures."

"That does sound like you."

"How?" She turned to look at him lying beside her, face turned towards the rainbow coloured sheets hanging above them like the inside of a circus tent.

He grinned. "Because you're nosey."

She gaped. "I am not!"

"It's not a bad thing," he laughed. "You're interested in new things, new places. It's inspiring."

"Oh shove your inspiration, granddad."

He simply continued to laugh so she scoffed and hit him with a spare pillow, before wrapping herself up in one of the blankets. She took a moment to delight in the toasty duvet she was currently snuggled into like a tortilla. It was possibly the most heavenly feeling ever. Up there with the cold side of the pillow.

They settled into an easy silence, Nora picking up a book – _Dracula_ , oh the irony – and Edward listening to Nora's favourite music – _Joy Division_ was playing. The good thing, Nora found, about her friendship with Edward was that they didn't feel the need to constantly fill their time doing things. They could lie around and talk or do their own thing while still being comfortable together.

It certainly helped in Nora's current isolation from the rest of the world – or even, for the most part, the rest of the house, considering she still couldn't get used to the crutches.

Nora had been told, commanded even, to stay off from school for the remainder of the week – her teachers had agreed with Dr. Cullen (to her lack of surprise) that it was better to just be given the school work by her friends than risk damaging the ankle further.

It was funny for two reasons. One, because she knew that back in London a sprained ankle would've been considered a pretty crap reason to stay off school for three days, so she was milking her current injury for all it was worth. And two, because Edward had become her lapdog, bringing her homework over daily.

However, today, Friday, her _final_ day off, Edward had stayed to spend time with Nora, which had somehow spiralled into a random conversation about nothing. With Nora stuffing her face with a bowl of coco pops, the pair had spent the entire afternoon sprawled on cushions, talking and generally lazing about. Nora was starting to think she was inflicting Edward with her Beached Whale disease. That is, he seemed far too happy with the idea of doing nothing but lying there aimlessly, letting time drift by.

She had done much the same yesterday with Lola's sudden appearance at her house. Although that conversation had been a lot more serious. Well, as serious as she and Lola could muster.

It had started with Lola's loud declaration:

"I'm doing it!"

When Lola had popped in for her 'daily dose of sarcasm', Nora had been in a good mood. Up until she spilled coffee down herself from this incredibly abrupt shout. Now, she was regretting being polite and allowing her friend inside the house when she could have just slammed the door in Lola's face and gone back to useful activities. Like sleeping.

"Shit," she cursed, letting her good leg flail in pain, waving her hands frantically – and clearly uselessly – at the new stain. "Could you stop scaring me into doing that?"

Lola, meanwhile, simply watched her efforts curiously, making no move to help. She arched an eyebrow. "If you listened to me instead of zoning out all the time, this wouldn't happen."

Nora offered her a deadpan look, pulling the t-shirt away from her burned stomach. "Thanks for the advice."

After a moment, when she'd resettled, Lola stared her down. " _Well_?"

Nora blinked. "Well, what?"

"I told you I'm doing it," said Lola, as if that should clue her in.

"Doing what? Drugs? Sex? Dyeing your hair?"

Her friend rolled her eyes so slowly Nora thought they'd fall out. "Breaking up with Peter," she gritted out.

Ah. That's what she was talking about. Nora grinned happily, "Halle-fucking-lujah! Finally! What changed your mind?"

"You actually," said Lola, nodding a head at Nora's carefully placed bandaged leg. "You scared me, you know? I mean, you almost died. It made me realise how pointless it was to avoid doing something because of rumours. Life is short."

This sounded like a perfectly reasonable excuse. A clichéd one, but still reasonable. However, Nora also knew Lola fairly well. So, she simply stared the girl down until she caved.

And cave, she did.

"Alright," groaned Lola, "it might also have something to do with the spotlight on you right now."

Nora frowned. Having missed school for the past week, she'd not really been 'in the know' on anything. She'd called in to work to say she would have to be on sick leave until her ankle was strong enough to no longer require crutches, and was subsequently given a strange vomit of apologies mixed with promises of a new bike from Mrs Crowley – Nora actually forgot that it was her son that almost smushed her with a car – but other than that, she was out of the gossip circles.

Luckily, Jon was handling insurance and hospital bill situations so she could remain in the incognito-nest he'd built in her bedroom, involving lots of Doritos and coffee.

Unfortunately, it also meant she was blindsided when outsider information came.

"What do you mean?" she asked slowly, fearing the answer.

Lola rolled her eyes. "It's a small town, Nora. You literally saved someone's life last week in a near death car crash. Of course everyone's talking about you. I'm pretty sure it was in the local paper, for God's sake."

"Ugh, really?" She smacked a hand to her face. She had forgotten the curse of small towns: gossip. Gossip, quite literally, invaded everywhere and everyone in Forks. It was like an infection.

"Yep," chirped Lola. "Which means if I dump Peter no one's going to care. I'll get a few looks and questions but you'll be there to take the attention away from me, my little heroic friend."

Nora glared at her and then at the massive stain on her top. It was one of her favourites from her dad – an image of David Bowie on the front.

"I hope you're happy exploiting your injured friend and ruining her shirt," she grumbled, rubbing at it.

"Thrilled," admitted Lola. Indeed, she seemed particularly chipper. As if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Nora supposed it was almost true; she knew how much Lola despised being with Peter by this point. The constant fake romance would drive anyone insane.

"Have you considered whether you'll come out?" she asked quietly, sipping on the dregs of her spilled coffee.

Sighing, Lola's face was grim. "I thought about it and," she rubbed her temple, "I decided I'm just not ready."

"Okay," said Nora simply. "Taking it one step at a time is cool."

But Lola did not seem to think this enough. She bit her lip, staring at the inside of her coffee cup. "Do you think it makes me a bad person? Keeping that part of myself secret?"

"No," Nora denied instantly. "It makes you a normal person with normal insecurities, fears and opinions." She leaned forward and touched a hand to Lola's knee. "You can come out whenever you bloody like, lollipop. Just know I'll be your sidekick regardless."

They didn't speak for a moment, the air heavy, until Lola huffed. "Damn right you're the sidekick."

"That was me lying to make you feel better. I'm Batman. Obviously."

"Too late… _Robin_."

Emotional overload complete, the pair had gone on to eat more food and idly discuss the merits of a school uniform until, sneaky as a snake, Lola had asked a seemingly random question.

"Has Edward been around much?"

The question was deceptively casual in delivery, and yet Nora found herself peering up at her friend with rightful suspicion.

"Once or twice," she said shiftily. "He drops off the work I miss from classes."

"Ah," Lola nodded. This seemed to prove something or another. "Is he coming round today?"

Nora's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps."

Lola simply hummed, playing idly with a loose thread in her jeans.

Nora was left with the sensation of being completely in the dark and also the subject of her friend's thoughts. "Why?" she asked slowly.

"No reason," said Lola brightly. "Just getting an update on Nodward."

Nora deadpanned. "What the crapping hell is a Nodward?"

She blinked innocently. "It's you and Edward, obviously. Your brother came up with it."

"Why were you discussing that with Jon?!"

Lola shrugged far too nonchalantly for her liking. "We got onto the topic when I made the coffee," she said easily.

With a groan, Nora reminded her, "We're not a couple, you realise."

"Hm."

No amount of reason seemed to filter into Lola's brain however and so, when her friend had waltzed out of the house with a cheery goodbye to Jon, Nora was left to recuperate by slumping down sleepily and reading a book to cheer herself up.

Now, one day on, she looked over at Edward lying beside her with his eyes closed, completely focused on music, and considered their friendship. It was disconcerting to know that her own brother thought there was something nefarious going on, but Nora didn't want to worry about it.

Edward was her best friend. A good, pompous, far too pretty best friend.

"I'm not that pompous," he muttered to her, eyes still closed.

This, of course, made Nora almost crap herself. "Way to be creepy, Eddie," she grumbled, heart racing.

He opened one eye. "You're the one sitting and staring at me."

She considered it. "Touché. We're both creepy." She nudged him. "Sorry for the psychopathic staring."

He faked a shudder. "It's alright."

"You looked like you were asleep," she commented, attempting to gently throw her book near the exit of the blanket fort and somehow ending up flinging it away dramatically, watching the papers wilt over one another like dead flowers. Whoops.

"It's nice to pretend to sleep," he murmured, closing his eyes again and resembling an eerily lifelike statue.

Nora frowned. She forgot sometimes that Edward couldn't _actually_ do so. It must be horrible, she thought. To her, sleep was an escape. It allowed her mind to finally rest, it allowed her emotions to settle. Simply put, it took her away from reality for a while.

To not sleep… it would be torture.

"It's not so bad," said Edward, replying to her thoughts. "You get used to being awake."

"One hundred years of no sleep," she said, trying and failing to imagine such a phenomena. "What do you _do_ all the time?"

"I suppose we simply continue to learn," he mused after a moment. "The world is forever changing. Especially now – the modern day is almost constantly reimagining itself and updating. Though, of course, sometimes I can relax like this." He opened his eyes and smiled at her. She smiled back but still felt a twinge of guilt. She could close her eyes and fall away from this room completely, letting her mind melt into the darkness. He would forever remain.

"Nora," said Edward, returning her to the present. He peered at her, his eyes sparkling in the fairy lights glow. "It's okay. Don't feel guilty."

She sighed, rubbing her hand and suddenly an idea came to her. "Wait," she said, sitting up properly. "There are more ways to relax than just sleeping."

He arched an eyebrow nonchalantly but she could see him perk up in interest.

"Meditation!" she exclaimed, adding some jazz hands for extra effect.

Edward looked decidedly unimpressed.

"Oh just try it," she demanded. She lay back next to him. "Seeing as you uh," she scratched her neck awkwardly, "don't actually breathe, just focus on mine. Close your eyes," she whispered, watching him do so out of the corner of her own. "And just focus on the breathing. Let your mind wander. Let yourself feel every bone and muscle as it slips out of tension."

She considered a career as a yoga instructor. Then, realising she would probably be distracting Edward's thoughts, she grabbed a new book from her ever-growing precarious pile. Something with a theme _other_ than vampires would be good.

It was a collection of poems by Walt Whitman. An old copy passed down from her mother.

She flipped through a few pages to the dog eared one. "This is my favourite," she whispered.

And silently she read, and Edward simply listened.

 _'I celebrate myself, and sing myself,_

 _And what I assume you shall assume,_

 _For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you...'_

"Nor? You home?" called Jon's voice, disturbing the peaceful haze that had settled over the pair of them half an hour later. Edward, looking more serene than ever, opened his eyes and sat up slowly.

"Yeah!" Nora shouted back in the meantime.

"Ok – I brought some food back from the restaurant. It's on the top in the kitchen whenever you want it!"

She heard the distant thud of her brother's footsteps as he pottered around their small home, and turned to smile at Edward sleepily. "Feel relaxed?" she asked.

He hummed. "It was quite wonderful." He looked at her fondly, "Thank you."

She shrugged. "No problem. Now come on, I'm starving. I feel like Jon's trying to set me on a diet. He doesn't think I eat healthily enough."

In response, Edward sardonically pointed at a giant packet of crisps.

By the time they had walked gracefully (Edward) or awkwardly stumbled with crutches (Nora) into the kitchen, Jon had sat himself at the kitchen table. He was hunched over, writing hurriedly in the leather notebook Nora had given him for Christmas and humming random chords to himself.

"Uh, Jon?" she asked, peering over his shoulder. It seemed like he was finishing one of his songs. "What're you doing?"

He jumped slightly and looked up, surprised to see Edward standing slightly behind her. "Oh, hey," he said, slamming the notebook shut. "Sorry – got lost in thought. I'm Jon." He grinned and held a hand out to Edward. As he spoke, Nora was reminded that Jon and Edward had never actually interacted before. It was incredibly weird to her, because she rambled about both of them so much that she'd sort of forgotten they'd never met.

Watching the pair of them, she felt strangely nervous for the meeting to go well.

She shouldn't have worried. Jon was his usual _hilarious_ self.

"You must be Nora's boyfr– "

Nora shoved him. Hard.

Edward, amused but not acknowledging the words, simply shook his hand and said smoothly, "It's a pleasure to meet you. Nora's told me a lot about you."

Jon looked at his own hand and shook it. "Dude, you have got seriously cold hands. And as for Nora, don't believe anything she told you." He shook his head grimly, "The girl's a pathological liar."

"I am not," she frowned, offended.

"See," he sighed.

Edward just laughed slightly but looked curiously at the notebook. "Do you write your own music?"

And so, a strange conversation began between her brother and her best friend. They discussed music composition with an intensity Nora was astounded by. She could only watch it in awe – like staring at a car crash. You're unable to look away.

It wasn't long, however, before Edward was frowning at his watch. "I should get going," he said to Nora. "It's getting late."

"Sure," Nora agreed, getting up from her chair. "I'll, um, crutch you to the door."

Before they could though, Jon seemed to have a moment of realisation. "You know, if you were interested, I've got a gig at the restaurant in a couple of weeks. I was gonna ask Nora to come along but you could too, if you wanted. It's what that song's for," he explained, gesturing to the notebook where, somewhere during their conversation, Edward's own pretty handwriting had accumulated.

"Definitely," Edward said with a genuine grin.

"When is it?" asked Nora. "I might need to book it off work."

Jon glanced down, looking decidedly more solemn all of a sudden. "On the 8th March."

Ah. Nora understood his look. She forced a smile at Edward – ignoring his sympathetic look – and nodded at Jon. "I'll be there and I'll force Eddie along, too."

Edward nodded kindly. "I'd love to go."

"Awesome," Jon grinned.

He then continued to make notes as Nora saw Edward out, waving off his concern at her sudden drop in mood. He knew why. Of course he did. He could read her thoughts. But he let her avoid the subject and left.

When she re-entered the kitchen, Jon sighed fondly. "I feel like I'm the perfect matchmaker."

Nora rolled her eyes. "Is that why you invited Edward to your gig?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "I invited him because he seems into music – the guy knows his stuff, I'll give you that. But," he gave her a sly grin, "I figured you'd want him there."

"You did, huh?" she asked wryly.

Jon looked at her, completely earnest all of a sudden. "Nor. I'm not an idiot. He's one of the reasons you're no longer completely miserable. You mention him more than you realise so I _know_ he's being helping you deal with everything. Dad would've said he was a good guy."

She didn't respond straight away. Luckily, or unluckily really, she didn't need to, as Jon decided to ruin his epic speech with a casual shrug. "I'm just trying to keep Nodward going strong."

Nora groaned. "Please stop calling us Nodward. And for that matter, stop conferring with Lola about us, you lunatic! We're not even together!"

He snorted. "Right."

"We're not!"

"The mixed tape speaks for itself."

"It was literally one recording on a CD. That isn't mixed or a tape."

"Still counts."

They let silence fall and stood next to each other for a second.

"Do you really think dad would say that?" she asked, peering at him.

He pulled her into a side hug. "Dad was a sucker for romance, remember? He'd probably give you a kick up the arse to get things going."

She elbowed him but also smiled. "Thanks Jon," she said softly.

He paused. They stood in silence and it seemed to cloak them oppressively.

"The anniversary's only a couple of weeks away," said Jon lowly.

There was a hollow in her chest as she thought of it. The anniversary.

This was when she was supposed to say 'We're okay'. This was her moment to pretend.

But she couldn't. She just nodded.

The ringing silence felt unbearably loud.


	29. Chapter 29

**Hey – I AM SO SORRYYYYYY.**

 **Seriously. Uni is sort of mental.**

 **Also, I've been trying to start blogging properly and begin actually writing as a profession. On that note, I can't link my blog but if you type in 'bethanymorrisseyblog' into Google (adding '.wordpress'), you should find it.**

 **Please look and give me feedback. I'd appreciate it, people.**

 **Here is the next chapter. It's rushed, I'm tired and apologetic, and I promise to try and update more often. This one is embarrassingly all over the place but I'm stressed and cold so pls be kind.**

* * *

 **29**

 **Girls On Film,** ** _Duran Duran_**

* * *

Lola was right about many things, Nora realised, but never more than she had been about Forks' apparent ability to exaggerate situations.

Two words: hero worship.

She had only been back in school for one day. Already she had been mobbed by well-wishers, gossipers, and people who wanted to stare at her leg as if expecting her to fall over right there in front of them.

Seriously. Forks was quite clearly full of maniacs.

Luckily, Nora no longer needed the crutches. After being given the all clear from Dr Cullen and a mother-henning Jon, she now just limped oddly every once in a while like a really terrible extra on _Grey's Anatomy_. Or maybe an incredibly lazy zombie from _The Walking Dead_.

But people continued to offer their sympathy for her 'plight' and, more importantly, they were, for some reason unknown, awed by her new 'saviour' status.

All she did was tackle a Bambi lookalike.

That was it.

It wasn't like she'd gone up against a great evil; just Tyler's mother's minivan. Not quite a Disney villain, was it?

And somehow deciding to be a good human being and saving Isabella Swan and herself from death-via-minivan had also led her to her doom.

A horrific, painful, unbearable doom.

Counselling.

She was once again squashed into an uncomfortably compact plastic seat, listening with increasing agitation as the receptionist chewed noisily and wetly on an obscene amount of gum just outside the door, all the while glaring across the desk at Mr Davies as she waited for the torture to commence.

The guidance counsellor had finally cornered her into another appointment and currently sat before her, shuffling papers.

Woo. Hoo.

Bella obviously didn't have to go through this bloody situation but, even for all of Derek's attempts, Mr R. _Fucking_ Davies had decided that escaping near death might bring back some uncomfortable feelings for her.

Well, he was half right. She was feeling uncomfortable. This seat was far too rigid.

They had gone through their usual fun of him trying to persuade Nora to open up and Nora giving blasé responses. Honestly, she actually wasn't upset. Not about the car crash, anyway. And she did not want to give this man something to latch onto and leech out of her.

That thought kept her from succumbing to visible depression, these days.

"How are you finding school?"

Always the easy opener that was _never_ actually easy to answer. Wily man.

"Mr Miller has sung your praises."

She tried to imagine her surly Mandarin tutor doing so and withheld an ill-timed scoff. As if.

"Miss Brennan, you aren't leaving until I'm assured you are perfectly sound, mentally."

"I doubt that'll ever be the case, Rog."

Cue sigh and need for an eye roll. Seriously, the guy should just roll them already or he'd give himself a cramp in his smug red face.

"Tell me how you're feeling, then."

Her eye twitched. "I feel fantastic, sir. Never better. I am high on life. Or maybe on the pain meds."

If he could get away with glaring at her in a professional way, he had pretty much succeeded.

"Do you think you may be developing a hero complex?" He asked next and she blinked at the unexpected question.

" _What_?"

"You saved Isabella Swan," he pointed out. "I'm asking you if you think that's noble or reckless."

She glared. "Oh, I'm obviously the next Clark Kent."

He was undeterred, "I'm only asking because I need to know if this will develop further. I think you may feel a need to save people because..."

"Because what?"

He sighed. "Because you couldn't save your father."

The anger bubbling inside of her almost erupted because _how dare he_? She wanted to punch him. Punch the wall. Punch his stupid sodding nameplate.

But she couldn't do that. She had to act mentally sound or she'd be dragged back into this torture for good.

Through clenched teeth, she replied, "That's not it, I promise you. I saved Bella because she's my friend. That's _all_."

Mr Davies tilted his head at her, "Would you have saved her if she'd been a stranger?"

It was a sly question. He knew she wanted to say the honest answer, but doing so would be admitting something else, something he could force more sessions out of her for.

So she lied. "I doubt it."

He sighed, exasperated as ever, but nodded his acceptance.

"Our time is unfortunately up. You can go. Thank you for talking to me, Nora. I would like to continue on with the sessions, but Mr Miller was quite… forceful."

"Oh it was a picnic, Roger," she nodded sarcastically, getting out of her seat and getting the hell out of that room.

"My _name_ is _Richard_!"

Laughing to herself, she found Edward waiting for her outside. They had English next and like an obedient slave, he had decided to wait for her as moral support.

He smiled at her grumpy face. "Have fun?"

"Loads," she retorted, "he thinks I have a hero complex."

"Well, the odds are in his favour," Edward said thoughtfully, waiting for her to grab her books from her locker.

"Gee thanks, Effie Trinket. Just what I wanted to hear."

He just laughed. Git. "You _did_ save Bella, remember?"

In her annoyance, it took her a few goes before the locker would even unlock and open. Being the mature person she was, Nora glared at it, hating the stupid thing more than the devil himself.

Bloody America and its bloody useful book-holding lockers.

She slammed the door shut with more force than necessary, kicked it twice for good measure and began stalking down the corridor for English Lit.

"Anyone would save Bella. She's the epitome of the doe-eyed princess."

"No," he said slowly, clearly wary of her post-locker kicking mentality, "I believe most people would still save themselves. They would feel guilty afterwards but in the heat of the moment… it usually becomes survival of the fittest."

They had reached their destination. She sounded like a Sat Nav.

She offered him a tight smile, feeling a little uncomfortable; she wasn't sure if that was due to the praise, the thought of sitting through more lessons with people gawking at her, or because her jeans were tighter than usual thanks to Jon's misunderstanding of how to properly use the washing machine.

It was probably the praise. She wasn't a hero. She was a daughter who, in the 'heat of the moment', had wanted to make her dad proud of her. That was _all_.

It wasn't a hero complex. It was love and grief and longing for a proud smile she would never see.

"Good thing I'm not fit, then," she replied, ignoring his sympathetic look. He continued with the look. "Stop looking at me like I'm a three-legged puppy, Cullen."

"I'm not." He batted his infuriatingly perfect eyelashes innocently.

"You totally are," she sang, clambering onto her stool and waiting for her arse to go numb from how cold it was.

Edward made an unimpressed face. "I'm totally not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You're cool."

"I'm not."

She smirked at him in overwhelming smugness at her victory and turned back to face the teacher, ignoring his glare.

The day continued in a similar pattern, involving Nora attempting to dodge strange people who wanted to talk to the 'hero'. She felt like a fraud – and also terrified of the intensity of small town hero worship.

During lunch, she tried to spend time with Lola but unfortunately, her friend was, according to the rushed texts Nora had received, in hiding somewhere in the building. This followed her very brutal, very loud, very angry break up with Peter. It had taken place after school but Lola had made the mistake of dumping him in a café. She'd chosen it because it wasn't usually busy and no one they knew really went there – preferring the cheap, fast food chain that was closer to school grounds. However, the quietness of the café had simply allowed their voices – particularly Peter's boisterous angry one – to spread through the entire building, into the ears of waitresses keen on telling others any gossip available.

This, combined with Peter's newest vicious retelling of events in the car park this morning, meant everyone knew. And wanted to know more.

So, Lola was currently incognito.

And by the end of the day, Nora was considering doing the same thing. People were weird.

She headed out to the car park in hopes of cheering herself up with the thought of leaving this hellish place. And possibly finding Lola and finally talking to her. Instead of Lola, however, she spotted a group of gaggling girls in a large circle, all focused on one topic:

"Why did she even break up with him? Do you think she was cheating with Ryan? That's what people are saying," one girl said loudly, garnering many shocked looks.

Nora went to step forward but was beaten by a familiar voice shouting, "OI! Back off from her, yeah?"

"Donald," said Nora, surprised to see her co-worker randomly in the car park. She hurried over, watching the girls skedaddle. "Jesus. Those girls are like vultures."

"I know. You got a ride?"

Nora nodded. Since her bike was currently a crushed hunk of nothing, she was getting a ride with Edward – who was exceedingly smug about the situation – and she spotted him loping over to his car to wait for her. Even his walk was smug.

Shaking her head, Nora turned back to her friend, and was confused all over again by Donald's presence. "Why _are_ you here?" she asked bluntly.

Donald shrugged, "I have to pick up my dad. He's a teacher here."

Nora frowned, "Who's your dad?"

Blasé, he said absently, "Derek Miller. He's a Geography teacher."

What? _WHAT_?

"He's," she gaped. " _He's_ your _dad_?"

He stared at her as if she were crazy. She supposed her expression was probably bordering on mania.

Derek. Derek was a _father_. Jesus, the world was ending. Was it bad that this shocked her as much as Edward had when he told her was a vampire? Probably.

But this was _Derek_! Mr Miller. The person who threatened violence at the thought of lazy students and generally hated everyone. The grumpy teacher who pretended not to know her name occasionally.

"You know him then?" Donald asked, cool as a sodding cucumber.

"Sort of," again, she stared at him, before laughing in disbelief. "He's my Mandarin tutor."

"Oh, cool. My mum's Chinese, you know. It's why he learned the language."

"Yeah – he mentioned that," she said weakly.

She'd never got round to finding out Donald's surname. Donald Miller. Huh.

As she looked at him with the new information in mind, she could actually kind of see it. His eyes, although much happier than Mr Miller's, were the same grey colour. His facial structure must have come from his mother, but Derek's was there in his stern eyebrows and brown hair.

Musing, her mind turned back to her missing pal. "Hey Donald," she said nonchalantly, hiding her true worry, "you haven't, by any chance, seen our favourite blonde sociopath lurking around the place, have you?"

Donald looked troubled, frowning slightly. So he was worried too, Nora concluded. That was never a good sign. "No. And I'm covering for her tonight. Apparently she called in sick to work," he said, biting his lip.

Nora raised her eyebrows. It didn't sound like a big deal, but in her entire experience of working at The Cosy Club, Lola had never called in sick. She knew why, too – it was because work offered Lola an escape from her closeminded parents, who had no idea how much their shallow beliefs were hurting their daughter. Part of Nora wanted to egg their house, but then, Lola lived there too so it would be sort of pointless.

Plus, Lola would probably punch her.

"Seriously?" She asked instead.

"I think all those rumours going around are getting to her. I wish she wouldn't let them. It doesn't matter what those idiots think."

Nora smiled a little at his words. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one who just didn't care about the ridiculous social hierarchy of school.

"I knew you secretly loved us," she crowed, grinning cheekily.

" _Anyway_ ," he said pointedly, "I have a feeling she's going to hide out until the rumours drop. She didn't cheat on him, so hopefully the truth will out in the next couple of days."

Nora sighed, "I don't see that happening anytime soon. She's so popular, it's all anyone's talking about. It sounds stupid but it's true."

"Hopefully something big will happen and people can start gossiping about that instead. For all her terrifying personality, Lola's… well, she's definitely not _nice_ ," he chuckled, "but she's a good person."

Nora agreed. She was terrifying, but she was good. With a large sigh, she bid farewell to Donald and began the slow walk over to Edward, rather glum. And apparently, that was incredibly obvious as Edward was frowning at her.

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied, watching her clamber into the car. "You okay?"

"Nope. School sucks. People sucks. Heroism sucks," she grumbled, closing her eyes.

Edward paused, before slowly speaking, "Do you want me to cheer you up?"

She peeked one eye open to look at his nervous face. Weird. "How?"

"Well, the sun's going to be out soon. I wondered if you wanted to – "

"Totally see what is up with your sun phobia?" she interrupted.

He blinked, registered her sudden happiness and then groaned the angstiest teenager-iest groan she'd ever heard.

"Yay!"

"I was going to say did you want to watch Game of Thrones at my house," he muttered, and Nora artfully ignored his grump.

"Please."

"Nora."

"Please!"

He sighed. She remained grinning in anticipation the entire journey to Edward's place, throughout her brief hello's to his perfect lil vampire family, and throughout the piggyback to a forest clearing.

Truthfully, Edward's apparently dislike of sun had been an intrigue for a long time; she knew it didn't burn him, but she'd never been told anything more. If anything, Edward had always seemed _embarrassed_ by it.

As if on cue, and it probably was (mind reader, duh), Edward said, "Please don't laugh."

She blinked, looking up at his sheepish face. "I won't. Is it scary?"

"No," he sighed, tilting his head up to look at the slow progression of light. It was still freezing and icy, but the sky was clear. "I'm doing this to cheer you up, I hope you know."

"Thanks, I think."

"So keep that in mind. I'm doing this because I'm your friend, who respects you and admires you and would never laugh at you."

Through narrowed eyes, she nodded. "Of course. Same to you."

And then, the sun came out.

And…

Well…

She couldn't stop laughing.

The sides of her stomach ached, her jaw got twinges of sharp pain, like after chewing gum or blowing up too many balloons, and she was fairly certain that while she'd been practically crying from hilarity, Edward was standing, unimpressed, in front of her.

Still glittering as if she'd decided to _Art Attack_ the crap out of him.

Sniffing some of her own snot and tears, she chuckled again, swallowed and faced him, trembling lips forced shut.

He was staring at her in defeat as if he'd expected this. She couldn't see how anyone could react in any other way, honestly.

"You look like," laugh/breath, "a unicorn's," laugh/breath, "wet dream."

Cue more hysterics.

"Are you done?" He asked primly.

She nodded. Snorted. Then nodded again, sheepishly.

Maintain some element of composure, Nora managed to crouch down and flop backwards into the grass, Edward doing the same beside her, and just grinned at the sky for a bit. That… revelation had put her in an incredibly happy mood and she wanted to revel in the feeling for a bit. They lay beside each other in the clearing, the smell of flowers intoxicating her and the feel of the sun loving and warm on her neck, and she felt content, properly content, for the first time in a long time.

"So," she drawled, one eye cracked open, the other shut against the sun's glare, "you sparkle."

"Yes."

"Like a disco ball."

"An accurate simile, I suppose."

"You… are a glitter bug."

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb.

"Oh come on," she playfully pushed him and he remained unmoved. Figures. "Don't go all Edward Sullen on me. How did you think I'd react? Ogle and salivate at you like a gormless ninny?"

He glared at her. "Don't call me that."

"Alright, pouty."

"Or that!"

She pursed her lips in amusement. Edward's wary, irritated face slowly softened into serenity.

And then the torrent of nicknames came out like projectile vomit. Word vomit, if you will; the only words Lindsay Lohan was worth being remembered for.

"You're a regular," she snorted, "diamond in the rough."

"Nora."

She couldn't help it. She started laughing hysterically again, and every time she glanced up at his glitzy face she laughed even harder.

" _Nora_."

"Yes, Sparky?"

"I will leave you in this meadow, if you continue."

"Sorry," she said.

He nodded with a barely there smile.

She coughed. "Twinkle toes."

He glared at her.


End file.
